


Real Bodyguards Don't Get Power Ballads

by lalazee



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Intrigue, Love/Hate, M/M, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If assassins didn't kill Esca, the sheer tension between them most certainly would.</i>
</p><p>A Forced-To-Inhabit-The-Same-Space troped fic if there ever was one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _And Iiiiieeeeiiii will always love youuuu..._

“Don’t look now, but I think that guy wants to buy you a drink – or eat you up.”  
  
Esca flicked an eyebrow – or he thought he did, because his face was on a one way track to Numb Town – and peered down the bar, in the opposite direction of his current point of interest. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him to see fucking  _Aquila_  staring back from behind a pair of dark aviators.  
  
Who the fuck wore sunnies indoors anyway? No one. Rap artists, the blind, and tools. Especially tools.  
  
Esca spared his bodyguard the briefest glance and centred his attention back to – Joe? John? Jeremy? Eh. Piercings McGee. That worked as well as anything.  
  
“He doesn’t drink, and he’d only eat me in order to chew me up and spit me out,” Esca said. “Trust me.” He offered a flash of teeth. “You wanna get out of here?”  
  
“You  _know_  that dude?” McGee asked, his kohl-lined eyes wide. “Fuck  _me_.”  
  
“That  _was_  the plan,” Esca said under his breath, having already given up on this one. He knew where this was going. It had happened more than once.  
  
“What’s his name – can you introduce me?  _Damn_ , he’s like an Abercrombie model or something.”  
  
Despite Esca’s increasingly pissy mood over the past minutes, he had to bite back a laugh. The idea of Aquila taking his clothes off for any reason but to shower was bloody comical.  
  
“You know what?” Esca said, perking up. “Sure. You ask him out. His name is Marcus – go get him, tiger.”  
  
Before McGee could thank him or whateverthefuck, Esca was sliding off his barstool and disappearing onto the thumping, sweaty dance floor. If he was lucky, good old McGee would distract Aquila long enough for Esca to make a swift escape.  
  
Esca wedged between slick, groping hands and pulsing, jumping patrons – pausing only to be very thoroughly kissed by a girl who tasted like a brand of fags that Esca hated. By the time he’d burst through the back door and out into the sticky Chicago summer evening, his hair was standing on end from countless fingers running through it, and he’d somehow managed to lose his belt. The hows of the latter remained fairly fuzzy.  
  
With one hand hooked in the belt loop of his too-low jeans, Esca stumbled out of the back alley and blinked for a moment at the glaring city lights. He didn’t know what time it was, but the Friday night streets were still buzzing with that low, excitable thrum of activity. Esca considered hailing a cab and ordering the driver to take him to a club at random, but the thought of a walk was too appealing.  
  
Esca started down the pavement at a quick pace, hoping to put a considerable distance between himself and Aquila before the guy realised he’d ditched the joint. Which, unfortunately, likely gave Esca little time.  
  
He dug around his tight back pocket for a fag and brought the crumpled pack to his mouth, letting his bottom lip catch on one filter. He crunched the now empty plastic in his fist and patted his jeans down for a lighter he’d been so sure he had.  
  
Grumbling under his breath, Esca paused for a full drunken pat-down of himself. Sometimes he put lighters in really strange places because he so regularly lost them. The magic of skinny jeans was that you could tuck a lighter or knife or johnny against your ankle and it would  _stay_.  
  
The unmistakable click and fizz of a flame sparking to life behind Esca was followed by a low, even voice. “Need a light?”  
  
Esca whirled around with a scowl already marring his features. “Not from you,” he said, with the fag still hanging precariously from his lips as he spoke.  
  
Aquila didn’t even shrug as he snapped the gold plated lighter closed and tucked it away in the pocket of his slate grey trousers.  
  
Esca stared at him distastefully. No one should look  _that_  fit in slacks and a black dress shirt neatly rolled to the elbows. “Take those fucking sunglasses off,” Esca said, even as he reached forward to yank them off. “You look like a douchebag.”  
  
Aquila’s eyebrows winged up, but he said nothing as he allowed Esca to snatch away his sunnies. “Is that better?”  
  
“Not really. You’re still  _here_ , aren’t you?”  
  
“Last time I checked.” 

Esca picked at the hem of his vest and aimed a narrow look Aquila’s way. The bloke managed to appear both at ease and alert with his large hands in his pockets and shoulders rigid and wide. No matter how casual his stance, Aquila was always clearly on duty. Always ten paces behind, silent and watchful.  
  
Esca’s father had assigned Aquila to him four months ago and Esca still only knew a handful of information about him. Not that he was particularly curious or anything.  
  
With one final critical inspection, Esca flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture and turned on his heel. Bodyguard or not, he was going to enjoy his evening. There would be more opportunities to ditch Aquila. If only Esca could find one of those strip clubs with the private boxes. That would be perfect.  
  
“So I guess you didn’t appreciate the easy lay I sent your way,” Esca tossed over his shoulder after a minute or so.  
  
“I guess so,” Aquila replied blandly.  
  
“Not your type?”  
  
“You could say that.”  
  
For someone so unabashedly gorgeous, Aquila was as frustratingly asexual as they came. Esca couldn’t help but dwell on Aquila’s true type. Bloke – bird? Fair – dark?  
  
Esca huffed a breath and remembered the fag in his mouth. He turned around but continued to walk backwards as he eyed Aquila. “Light me up.” He continued to step back, only stumbling a little as his world swayed every few seconds.  
  
“I’m your bodyguard, not your servant,” Aquila said as he unearthed the lighter and tossed it to Esca, who just barely caught it. “And I’m not chasing you.”  
  
Esca paused to arch an eyebrow high, and fumbled with the more-complicated-than-they-should-be workings of the lighter. “You’re always chasing me.”  
  
To that, Aquila did not reply. He simply watched as Esca sucked the cherry of his fag to a bright orange, then proceeded to blow a slow, thick stream of blue smoke into Aquila’s face. He blinked, but didn’t say anything.  
  
Still riding the pleasant wave and slosh of alcohol in his system, Esca did something very foolish. He strolled up to Aquila, tilted his chin until their eyes locked, and said, “Ever shotgun, Aquila? You know – I inhale the smoke and exhale it... into your mouth.”  
  
Aquila’s eyes went dark, and the splashes of peach streetlamps and grey shadow played tricks across his strong features. For the first time, Esca realised that Aquila smelled like simple, clean soap and linen – like fresh bed sheets that begged to be laid in all lazy day long. The scent was a stark contrast to the illegal levels of masculinity he radiated. The bastard.  
  
A warm hand grasped Esca’s shoulder – sent fireworks blazing down his arm through the simple touch. Esca leaned into Aquila’s hold, his gaze still fixed on Aquila’s unreadable expression. Aquila leaned in and –  
  
“Let’s get you home. I think you’re more drunk than you realise.”  
  
“Oh,  _fuck_  you,” Esca said before he realised he’d said it. “You’re not my babysitter.” Esca jerked from Aquila’s faint grip and stomped along the sidewalk. “We’re going to a strip club and I’m not leaving until I’m short on cash and clothes.”  
  
Aquila didn’t say a word, but his sure steps followed Esca like a good goddamn dog.  
  
“Also,” Esca shot over his shoulder. “It’s going to be a  _gay_  strip club. I hope that doesn’t make you  _uncomfortable_.”  
  
“It doesn’t.”  
  
“ _Double_  fuck you.”  
  


***

 Esca burst through his bedroom door and into the corridor, still tugging down his t-shirt and forgetting to zip his jeans.  
  
“You  _arsehole_ ,” Esca said as he blearily glared at the tall, suited fuckface standing beside his doorway. “My class started ten minutes ago and you knew it!”  
  
Aquila gave Esca a quick once-over and appeared utterly unsympathetic. “Yes? It’s my job to know.”  
  
“So  _why_  didn’t you wake me the hell up?” Esca had to stop himself from screeching. He really hated it when he did that. He ended up sounding like his mother.  
  
“I’m your bodyguard, not an alarm clock.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake –” Esca gritted his teeth and, realising he has no time for this, turned and sprinted down the hall and wide, curving staircase. He squealed to a halt when he remembered shoes. Shoes were probably necessary.  
  
Luckily, Esca spotted his worn, black army boots at the front door – where he’d kicked them off at four-something this morning.   
  
God, Esca felt like shite.  
  
He tugged on his shoes, didn’t bother with the laces, decided to fuck his textbooks because he’d read off his neighbours, and practically threw himself into the harsh morning sunlight. What the fuck was  _wrong_  with America? Why so much sun? It was like living in a fucking sauna.  
  
When he rounded the garage he found Aquila leaning against the hood of a black Mercedes, looking unruffled in his immaculately pressed suit. Those stupid fucking aviators were on again, once more shadowing any telling expressions Aquila might have behind the lenses. Around two long, tan fingers swung a set of shining silver keys.  
  
“Want a ride?”  
  
 _You have no idea_.  
  
Esca bit down on a groan and settled for flipping him off. “Do you ever wear clothes that don’t make it look like you’re going to a funeral?”  
  
“Do you ever wear clothes that don’t look like they’ve been previously shrunk in the wash?”   
  
Aquila’s mouth snapped shut the moment the uncharacteristically playful banter had come out. Esca could swear he saw Aquila’s cheekbones colour pink. Or maybe it was just the heat.  
  
“Fuck you and your ride,” Esca said with less malice than he’d hoped for. He swept past Marcus and into the garage to find his motorcycle. Instead he found an empty spot and an oil stain on the cement floor. “Where the bloody hell is my bike?!”  
  
Okay,  _now_  he was screeching.  
  
“In for repairs,” Aquila said, not having moved from the Mercedes.  
  
“Well then why did you  _ask_  if I needed a ride if you already knew that I needed one? My class is going to end before I even get there because of you.”  
  
“Oh, in that case,” Aquila said flatly as he opened back car door for Esca. “I  _do_  apologise for riding your bike into the  _neighbour’s hedge_  at three in the morning. I’ll make sure I don’t try to Google James McAvoy’s phone number in hopes of seducing him via phone sex and drive at the same time ever again.”

“Pure bollocks,” Esca said with a wave of his hand as he bypassed the open door, circled the car and let himself into the passenger’s seat. He hated being in the back seat. It made him feel like a kid.  
  
Esca bookbag was already in the car at his feet. It was as if Aquila had suspected this entire morning would happen from start to finish. Aquila was so dutiful that it actually turned Esca’s stomach. No one knew Esca like Aquila did, and that was all kinds of creepy and fucked up and unhealthily attractive.  
  
“How do you even know all of that if I was alone on my bike?” Esca asked once Marcus had slipped in beside him and jerked the ignition to life.  
  
“It’s best if you don’t know,” Aquila said, staring straight ahead with both hands on the wheel.  
  
“It’s best if you answer my question.”  
  
“No.” With that, Aquila flicked on the radio just loud enough so that they couldn’t converse.  
  
Esca turned it off and stared hard at Aquila’s staid profile. “If you don’t tell me I’m going to put your nuts in a deathgrip while you drive.”  
  
“That’s probably the most terrifying thing you’ve ever said to me.”  
  
“Is that including the time I threatened to tattoo my initials onto you?”  
  
“You didn’t even have a justifiable reason for that one.”  
  
“Boredom is justifiable.”  
  
“How could you have been bored? You were in the  _process_  of getting a  _tattoo_.”  
  
“A lot of lying down was involved.” Dammit, Esca was nearly smiling –  _and_  he’d be properly distracted! What the fuck? Was their nothing this guy couldn’t do? “So spill it.”  
  
“That’s not going to happen.”  
  
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I am  _not_  a delicate  _flower_ , Aquila. Da may have hired you to waste every minute of your day following me around, but contrary to  _his_  beliefs, I actually  _am_  responsible for myself.”  
  
“I know that,” Aquila said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me.”  
  
Esca went silent. He didn’t know how to reply to something like that. Not from Aquila.  
  
“ _Fine_ ,” Esca said, and went into a huff because he had nothing better to do.  
  
It was only when Esca dragged his belongings out of the car in front of campus that Aquila leaned towards the emptied passenger seat and looked up at Esca with sunglasses slipping down his nose. The summer sun cut into the car and lit up Aquila’s eyes like amber.  
  
“After you’d crashed I’d carried you to your room. On the trip there you proceeded to inform me of everything I’d missed out on because you’d so effectively managed to ditch me. You were very proud of that fact.” Aquila’s nod was curt. “Don’t sulk. It makes you look five years old and just as tall.”  
  
Before Esca could muster a retort or pretend his face wasn’t as hot as a sunburn, Aquila reached out and shut the door.  
  
Well. Triple fuck.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you eat before,” Esca said as he strolled into the expansive, black and white marble kitchen.  
  
Aquila was in tow, still wearing those stupid shades inside. “One of life’s great mysteries.”  
  
“Four months living in the same house and I’ve never watched you put a single thing in your mouth.”  
  
Aquila paused and leaned in the doorway with a baleful expression.   
  
“Okay,” Esca said. “I probably could have worded that better.”  
  
“Probably. Looks like you have a package.”  
  
“What –” Esca stopped himself as he saw a brown-wrapped parcel on the kitchen counter, no doubt set there by the cleaning lady. He spared Aquila and unamused glance. “You probably could have worded that better.”  
  
Aquila’s lips curved. “Probably. Are you going out tonight?”  
  
“Hm?” Esca approached the box, tested the weight in his hands. “No. Assignments I need to work on.”  
  
“Okay. See you tomorrow then,” Aquila said.  
  
Early on Esca had come to realise that this was simply how Aquila functioned. The moment Esca was in public, Aquila was on him like glue – whereas when they were home, Aquila essentially disappeared.  
  
As far as Esca knew, he never went out or saw friends or had sex or  _anything_. Aquila lived in a section of the house set above the garage that acted as an apartment. It had all the amenities, and so Aquila never really needed anything from the main house.  
  
The most annoying part of Aquila’s mystery, though, was that he didn’t come off as a mysterious person at all. Aye, he could be a man of few words when the situation suited him, but so could Esca. Otherwise, Esca saw Aquila interact with people all the time. He was friendly, courteous, funny in a rather daft way, and generally approachable despite the suit and sunglasses.   
That really fucking annoyed Esca. How Aquila simply seemed to fit in wherever he went. People liked him, trusted him on some twisted principle that Esca couldn’t fathom. No person should be allowed to be so adaptable.  
  
Just once, Esca would like to see Aquila lose his temper or stress out or sweat. Lord knew he’d seen Esca in one or more of those states every other day.  
  
Whatever. Esca couldn’t figure out why he was so fixated on the bloke.  
  
Okay, he wanted to fuck Marcus Aquila six ways from Sunday, but wanting to screw someone and wanting to  _know_  them were two entirely different things. Esca was rather familiar with the former, and far less the latter.  
  
“Oi,” Esca said before Aquila could disappear. “This is from my Da.”  
  
“Yeah? Maybe it’s an early birthday present.”  
  
Esca looked up from the Washington, DC return address and blatantly stared at Aquila. “You remembered my birthday.”  
  
Aquila looked at him strangely, but his expression was lost behind the aviators. “Sure. It’s next week.”  
  
Esca felt short of breath, but he forced a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Did you get me a pressie?”  
  
Aquila hugged a soft laugh and shrugged. “What do you give to a guy who has everything?”  
  
“I could think of a few things.”  
  
Aquila’s smile widened and Esca could actually punch himself in the face for thinking of the sun.  
  
“I’m sure you could,” Aquila said. Then he gave a short nod, with his lips still faintly curved. “I’ll see you tomorrow Esca.”  
  
 _Esca_.  
  
Ugh. The way he said Esca’s name.  
  
Esca shook off the pathetic pining as he watched Aquila turn away from the kitchen. He really needed to fuck one of those tall, strapping, American football players at his uni in order to get Aquila out of his system. The brawny type wasn’t usually what Esca went for, but apparently Aquila defied preference.  
  
“Arsehole,” Esca said under his breath as he focussed on the parcel in his hands.

Usually Da was  _late_  with birthday presents. Whatever possessed him to actually  _think_  of Esca while he was busy in DC was beyond him. Either way, Esca wouldn’t turn away from a gift – particularly from his father.  
  
 _Eion MacCunoval_. Esca swiped his thumb over the name once, noting that the handwriting on the wrapping was that of Da’s assistant and not his own.  
  
Ah well.  
  
Esca ripped open the package in seconds, flipped open the box, and stared. He felt faint. A wide, stamped silver wrist cuff carved in the lines of a tribal eagle glimmered in the afternoon sun. Frankly, it was fucking gorgeous.  
  
Esca couldn’t recall receiving a more thoughtful gift from his father since he was ten. They’d still been living in Scotland, his parents had still been married, and Da had bought Esca a bow and arrows. He’d taken Esca out hunting. Esca hadn’t shot shite that day, but it hadn’t mattered. It had been the journey.  
  
Esca slipped the cuff on and held out his hand before him, turning it this and that way to watch the silver wink at him.  
  
He never wanted to take it off.  
  


***

  
  
“That suits you,” Aquila said the next day in the car. His attention strayed from the road just enough to glance at Esca’s bracelet.  
  
“I know,” Esca said. He caught Aquila’s curve of lips from the corner of his eye and turned his face towards the window so that he could smile too.  
  
“You have Muay Thai tonight, don’t you?” Aquila said, even though he obviously already knew.  
  
It still grated on Esca to have a bloody  _babysitter_. He was twenty-fucking-two! His father was a high profile ambassador, but it wasn’t like anybody gave a flying fuck about  _Esca_. Also, Aquila couldn’t be more than twenty-seven. Esca had buggered men older than him, for fuck’s sake.  
  
“Maybe,” Esca said.  
  
“It wouldn’t be an average day if you didn’t try to escape at least once,” Aquila said mildly.  
  
Esca bristled. “No day with me is  _average_.”  
  
“Of course not,” Aquila said with humour in his low, easy voice.  
  
Esca huffed a breath out his nose and glared at the trees passing by. “You should take a day off for my birthday. Or several. And never return.”  
  
“I guess that  _would_  be the best birthday present I could give you.”  
  
“Brilliant present. Good idea, I’m glad you thought of it.”  
  
“I  _have_  been known to come up with a few good ideas in my time. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to deny you.”  
  
Esca rolled his eyes. “Surprise surprise. Just be extra invisible, will you? I know that’s a difficult request for a fucking  _mountain_  like yourself, but I’m sure you can manage.”  
  
Aquila didn’t sound as annoyed as he should have. “I’ll manage.”

***

 “Who is  _that_?” Esca’s training partner and gym buddy, Chris, said – just as Esca was about to throw a knee. But Chris was just  _standing_  there like a fucking numpty, and Esca wasn’t going to take a knock at him unguarded.  
  
“Who?” Esca said as he paused to swipe his forearm across his damp brow.  
  
He turned to look just as Chris said, “He must be an MMA fighter or something.”  
  
Then, of course, Esca’s stomach dropped. Bloody  _Aquila_  stood just inside the doorway of the small gym – suit and sunnies and all. He was just waiting there with a deep frown. Even when Esca knew that  _Aquila_  knew he’d been spotted, there was no overt acknowledgement. Aquila didn’t gesture for Esca to come over in any way – it was like he simply  _expected_  Esca to dash to him because Aquila was  _existing_  in the room.  
  
Well Aquila could just shove off. That was how much Esca cared.  
  
“Don’t recognise him,” Esca said with apparent disinterest. He deliberately turned his back to the door and jerked his hands towards his body in a ‘hit me’ motion. “Come on.”  
  
“He looks important.”  
  
“He looks like a twat.”  
  
“I think he’s staring at you.”  
  
“That would odd, considering he doesn’t know me.” Esca swung an elbow Chris’ way, purposely missing his cheekbone. “For fuck’s sake mate – you going to moon over some tall, dark, and douchey or are we going to practice?”  
  
“Esca,” Aquila said.  
  
Esca bit back a groan and whirled around. “Sorry, do I know you?”  
  
“We need to talk.” Aquila sounded serious. Well, he was often grave, but this time there was steel to his voice.  
  
Regardless, they’d agreed some time ago that Aquila wouldn’t follow Esca into the gym or his classes. It raised questions and eyebrows and the people often became more fascinated with Esca’ s sodding  _bodyguard_  than Esca himself.  
  
Using the benefit of being in an elevated boxing ring, Esca strolled to the edge and leaned against the ropes. It was kind of – read: very – nice to loom over Aquila for once. “Later.”  
  
Aquila’s gaze was visible over the top of his aviators as he looked up. His eyes flashed, and a chill snapped down Esca’s spine. “Now.”  
  
From behind, Chris said, “Hey Esca, who’s the friend?”  
  
“ _Not_  a friend,” Esca said, never breaking from Aquila’s stare.  
  
“Esca.” Aquila lowered his voice like he was talking to a fucking child.  
  
“No.” Esca’s fingers knuckles tightened around the ropes. He could see people beginning to stare from their places around the gym. Friends and acquaintances curiously inspecting them with hungry eyes. There would be questions after this.  _Ugh_.  
  
“It’s regarding the Ambassador.”  
  
Esca scoffed. “What’re you on about, Aquila?”  
  
“There’s been an incident. You should come with me.”  
  
There was a pang in Esca’s chest, but he disregarded it in order to snap at Aquila. “ _Fine_. Wait outside.”  
  
With that, he spun on his head and aimed an apologetic look Chris’ way. “Sorry mate, I’m off.”  
  
“What?” Chris frowned. “Everything alright?”  
  
“Aye, I’m sure it is.”  
  
“So that guy – he knows you.”  
  
Esca barely suppressed an eye-roll. “A bit. Listen, I’ll see you later.”  
  
“Okay. See ya, man.”

When Esca went to collect his gym bag and remove his gloves and shin guards, he was glad to see Aquila had made himself scarce. He avoided the questioning looks of a couple people in favour of a wave and a beeline out the front door.  
  
A wave of sticky, thick heat slammed Esca in the face as he stepped out. The sun was setting behind a sedate black sedan parked before the building. Aquila was leaning against the driver’s door with bursts of pink and tangerine light haloing his dark figure. When he saw Esca he immediately straightened and buttoned his suit in a smooth motion. “Let’s go.”  
  
“ _Oi_ , how about you tell me what this is about first?” Esca said as he approached the passenger’s side and glared at Aquila from over the top of the car. “What’s wrong with my Da?”  
  
“Maybe nothing. This isn’t the proper place to talk about it.”  
  
“Car park, home, the circus – I don’t give a fuck.”  
  
“You know who else doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else’s preferences but their own?” Aquila snapped. “Five year olds. Now  _get in the car_  before I strap you into a baby seat.”  
  
The door slammed with a resounding crack once Aquila got behind the wheel.  
  
Esca was still gawking into the distance. The only reason he got in beside Aquila was so he could properly glower at him. “Call me a wean again and I’ll fire you.”  
  
“If you had the power to fire me you’d do it at least twice a day,” Aquila said, his voice more neutral than moments ago. But Esca could see the faint clench and pulse in Aquila’s jaw as he concentrated on the road.  
  
“Alright, so?”  
  
Aquila took a quiet, subtle breath. “So there was a shooting at a diplomatic event. I don’t know the details. Only that the Ambassador’s assistant was sniped down from a point of unknown origin. The Ambassador was standing with him when it occurred, but several other people were too, so no one was sure who the bullet was meant for.”  
  
Esca tried to swallow, but his throat had clenched up. “And? You said this was about my Da.”  
  
“And then he disappeared. Sped off in a nondescript car and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.” At a stop light, Aquila looked at Esca. Even with the cover of tinted lenses, Esca could feel the gravity of his gaze. “This doesn’t look good for him, Esca. That someone shot at him. That he ran like he had something to hide. That goes... that surpasses suspicious activity.”  
  
“Wha–” Esca shook his head, unable and unwilling to process this information. “What – I mean  _what_  the hell are you implying, Aquila? Maybe he was just –” _frightened_.  
  
Eion MacCunoval did not get frightened. People didn’t intimidate him, as a rule. He was a stoic figure with a cracking temper and strong self-discipline. He wouldn’t simply bolt without ample cause.  
  
Esca gritted his teeth at Aquila’s silence. “Maybe he’ll come to me. To, I don’t know, sort through this shite.”  
  
“Esca,” Aquila said quietly. “If your father is running from something or someone, he’s not going to run to you.”  
  
Esca felt his face burn. Of course he knew Aquila was correct. This was the hard truth of it, and Aquila was simply giving it to him straight, without the bullshit. Even so, it pissed him off. And aye, maybe he was a bit frightened too. None of this made any sense.  
  
“None of this makes any sense,” Esca said as he stared hard at the windshield with his brow creasing.  
  
“I know,” was all Aquila said.

They were silent the rest of the way home. Esca checked his mobile for any messages, but there were none. He supposed that if his Da had only driven off a few hours ago, no one but the people closest to him would be panicking at this point. Surely the police would get involved, but Esca didn’t have a clue when.  
  
Once they’d reached the house, Esca dragged his gym bag in and left it sitting in the middle of the hall. He went straight to the landline phone and checked the voicemail, but again there was nothing. Esca heard rustling in the kitchen, and upon approaching the room he found Aquila tossing his aviators to the counter and pinching the bridge of his nose. His shoulders were tight.  
  
“Marcus?”  
  
Aquila looked up and blinked, his eyes focussing on Esca with the same sharp intensity Esca could always feel from behind the glasses, but rarely saw. Aquila cleared his throat and unbuttoned his suit jacket.  
  
“What can you tell me about your father’s professional duties, Esca?”  
  
Esca shrugged and headed for the fridge, even though he wasn’t hungry. He needed to do something with his hands.  
  
“Fuck-all,” Esca said. He opened the door and closed his eyes as the dry, icy air washed over him in plumes. “I never asked and he never told. I hate politics, and politicians both bore and disturb me a great deal. Fancy a drink?”  
  
“Water, please. Regardless of your ignorance on the Ambassador’s work, the police will want to speak with you if he doesn’t show up within the next forty-eight hours. Possibly sooner, considering the weight of his position.”  
  
All of this didn’t feel real – it truly didn’t. Esca knew he was supposed to be panicked or something, but right now he just felt tired and confused and left out. With an inward sigh, Esca turned and tossed a water bottle across the room.  
  
Aquila caught it without a blink or flinch. He screwed off the lid and brought the rim to his mouth, where the plastic pillowed on the soft flesh of his bottom lip. Esca watched Aquila tip his head back to expose the long, tan line of his throat; the almost caramel colour of his skin was so stark against the crisp white and dark blue of his clothes. Esca wondered what he’d taste like, just at the joint of his jaw and neck.  
  
Then Esca realised he’d been holding his breath the entire time he’d been watching Aquila’s Adam’s apple bob as he drank. Esca sucked in a blessed gulp of air, but he was unable to look away from the beads of moisture that clung to Aquila’s bottom lip before he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.  
  
 _Holy hell_.  
  
And this was  _not_  the time or the fucking place to be thinking about this!   
  
Esca scowled. “Well then what  _can_  we do – sit on our arses and wait?”

Aquila gave a short shrug, but his dark eyelashes were lowered as he stared intently at the countertop, as if it would give him answers. “I called him when I first heard from his office. The phone’s completely cut off. He’s either run out of battery or ditched it. All we can do is hope that this is a misunderstanding.”  
  
“But you don’t think it is.”  
  
Aquila looked up – pressed his lips together long enough for them to pale, before he said, “It’s not my place to make that judgement.”  
  
Esca folded his arms across his chest and glowered. “You think my Da’s a criminal or something. A fucking  _ambassador_.”  
  
“Does it matter what I think?”  
  
Esca was about to yell,  _Yes, you fucking muppet!_  Instead, he clamped down on that and narrowed his eyes. “No.”  
  
Aquila might as well have been wearing sunglasses for all his expression gave away. Esca had to wonder what kind of profession he’d been in before he’d landed  _this_  shitter of a job.  
  
“So,” Aquila said, “I’m going to stick around the house tonight, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“Uh, you’re  _not_  and I  _do_  mind, cheers.”  
  
Aquila went stony as he placed his water bottle on the counter and rounded the island to stand before Esca. “Let me rephrase that. I’m staying here and you don’t have a choice.”  
  
“Then  _I_  won’t be here,” Esca said as he squared up to Aquila, toe to toe.  
  
“ _Esca_ , I –” Aquila bit off his sentence, but the amber blaze in his eyes had Esca desperately wondering what he’d been about to say. Aquila huffed a short breath and pinned Esca with a single look. “Think of it this way. If someone tried to hurt your father, it’s not impossible that they’ll want to hurt  _you_.”  
  
Esca’s laugh was stilted and short. “Surely you’re fucking with me.  _No one_  cares about the son of an ambassador, Aquila. No one cares about  _me_.”  
  
Aquila’s lips parted, then shut. Finally he said, “Just let me do my job.”  
  
Esca tilted his chin and searched Aquila’s eyes. He saw only dedication, concern, and a bull-headedness that could only rival Esca himself. Esca heaved a great sigh. “ _Fine_.”  
  
Before Aquila could get a last word, Esca marched out of the room and went upstairs. Aquila did not follow.


	3. Chapter 3

Esca had lied. He was going out.  
  
Changing into his usual attire and clasping the eagle cuff around his wrist, Esca frowned as he mulled over a situation that still remained wholly unknown to him. What the fuck was his father doing?  
  
More importantly, why should Esca care? It wasn’t as if anyone was bothered where Esca came or went – aside from fucking  _Aquila_  who was paid to give a fuck. If Da couldn’t be arsed to keep tabs on his son, why should Esca pay a courtesy to  _him_?  
  
Esca felt a pinch in his chest as he tugged on his boots and resolutely decided to go out and get gloriously pissed.  
  
Well-versed in sneaking out late in the night, Esca had gotten dressed in the dark, lest Aquila note the light beneath his door. Esca had been silent as he grabbed his wallet, slipped on his leather jacket and –  
  
A squeak sounded at the doorway. Esca froze – staring at the brass knob as it minutely began to turn.  
  
“ _What the fuck_ ,” Esca said as he marched across the room with a mutinous expression and whipped open the door. “Aquila, who the hell said you could open my door witho–“  
  
A glimpse of a black-masked man flashed, followed by a swift jab straight to Esca’s gut. Red curdled at the edges of Esca’s vision as pain burst and bloomed through his stomach. The wind scraped from his burning lungs as Esca keeled forward – and snapped into autopilot.  
  
Esca launched himself forward with a hiss of breath and isolated the assaulter’s arm, twisting it behind his back in a sharp jerk that had a  _pop_ sounding in Esca’s ears, paired with a whimper from the masked man.  
  
The stranger spun out from Esca’s hold at an angle that  _had_  to have hurt. He elbowed Esca squarely at the base of his neck before Esca could retaliate. White bursts washed Esca’s vision out as his spine sang in pain and adrenaline gushed through his veins, leaving him lightheaded. Esca’s arms were clamped behind his back by bruising fingers and his cheek slammed against the wood panelling of his door –  
  
When the pressure of the assailant disappeared with a bone-shattering  _crack_  and a gasp and a thud, Esca blinked hard into the dark and blindly swung out with a fist. 

“Ow –  _fuck_!” Aquila said, his palm cupping his jaw as he took a step back from Esca to glower at him in the dark.  
  
“ _Marcus_?”  
  
“Are you okay?”   
  
“I should be asking you the same thing.” Esca was taking turns gaping at the collapsed man and then Aquila. The thudding of his pulse was like a freight train in his ears, and he was shocked he could hear Aquila speak at all.  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Aquila said, already turning away to kneel beside the man. “You don’t hit  _that_  hard.”  
  
“I knew you were an arsehole, deep down,” Esca said as he jerked a look over his shoulder to the hallway, shut the door behind him, locked it, and turned back to Aquila.   
  
There was no reply from the shadow hunched over the unconscious figure.   
  
“No ID, no weapon, no distinguishing features or markings,” Aquila said, either to himself or to Esca was unclear.  
  
“Just what the  _hell_  is going on?” Esca said in a hissed whisper as he crouched beside Aquila. “ _Aquila_ , fucking  _report_  to me.”  
  
“This isn’t the goddamn Marines, you’re not my Sergeant,” Aquila said in a controlled tone. He flipped the body, checked for a pulse and then –   
  
A short, strangled scream broke out as Aquila broke one of the man’s fingers and flung him back into consciousness.  
  
“Tell me what you know,” Aquila said in a voice Esca had never heard before, and now wished he hadn’t. When the intruder didn’t reply, there was a crackle of bone crunching back and Aquila saying, “What – is – your – objective.”  
  
Esca kept his back pressed to the door, his fingers clenched around the knob in case someone else decided to burst in. He couldn’t look away from this scene; not when Aquila’s face was carved in cold stone as he brought his ear to the man’s mouth to listen to the gurgled, gasping reply.   
  
“The kid,” the strange said on a ragged breath.  
  
“ _Kid_?” Esca said acidly. He was not a  _kid_.  
  
Another crunch of knuckle and bone punctuated the thick silence and Esca didn’t wince. He only narrowed his eyes as Aquila said with bared teeth, “The rest of your men are  _dead_  downstairs. If you don’t wish for the same fate, you’ll talk – fast.”  
  
“He’s got –” The man wheezed. “Somethin’ they want. Information.”  
  
“What information?” The man was passing out again. Aquila drilled Esca with a look that stabbed through the shadows. “What information?”  
  
“Fuck if I know!” Esca said with his hands up in innocence. “I  _told_  you I’m not privy to my Da’s comings and goings.  _You_  likely know more than I do.”  
  
Aquila looked down, staring at the ashen-faced assailant. His fingertips dug into his knees for a moment before he stiffly stood. “Someone thinks differently.”  
  
“Well  _someone_ is a fucking idiot.”  
  
“We need to go.”  
  
Esca blinked at the change in topic. “What – how? Shouldn’t we call the –”  
  
“Esca.” Firm fingers curled around Esca’s forearms. In the blue night, Aquila’s profile loomed above, his eyes black and unreadable. “These men were professionals. They weren’t here to kill you, they were here to take you and extract data from you. This goes higher than the police. Whatever agency these men work for will snatch you up the minute the police turn their head.” Aquila’s thumb was rubbing in warm, sure strokes down the leather of Esca’s jacket. “And I’ll bet you anything they didn’t send all of their men in at once. If they’re smart, there’ll be at least one more on guard, and he’s going to realise something’s up very soon.”

Esca opened his mouth to argue and then shut it. He nodded, with his lips firm. “What’s the plan?”  
  
Aquila’s hands slipped away, leaving Esca a bit cold. Without a word, Aquila reached into his suit, near his ribs, and pulled out a compact handgun. Esca’s eyes widened as he caught a flash of a holster and, despite the situation, there was very little keeping him from wondering what Aquila would look like in  _that_  and nothing else.  
  
Thankfully oblivious to Esca’s inappropriate leer, Aquila nudged Esca away from the door and opened it quickly, darting into the hall.  
  
All was dead quiet.  
  
Aquila rested his firearm at his hip and motioned for Esca to come. For once, Esca thought it might be a good idea to listen.  
  
“Why do I not get a gun?” Esca said at a whisper as they descended the stairs. There was a body at the bottom, his temple bloodied – then another person in the foyer. Esca was vaguely surprised that he felt nothing upon seeing the bodies. He didn’t know them and they’d tried to  _abduct_  him, so there was some vindication in this.  
  
Aquila glared over his shoulder.  
  
Esca scowled. “Did you really kill all of these people?” he said as he stepped over another body.  
  
“They’re not dead, just down,” Aquila said as he swiftly led the way through the kitchen, into the pantry and up the stairs to his own wee flat. Very cleverly hidden, that.  
  
“And here I was beginning to think you were a hard man.”  
  
Aquila paused at his doorway and whirled around. “You need to stop talking.”  
  
Esca narrowed his eyes. “Oi,  _I’m_  the one under emotional duress here.”  
  
“Psychopaths can’t fall under emotional duress,” Aquila said flatly as he turned his back to Esca and flung open the door. “ _Sh_!” Aquila held out a silencing hand and gestured for Esca to remain in the stairwell.  
  
Aquila brought his gun up and crept into the flat. Esca shifted from foot to foot for thirty seconds, until Aquila returned and jerked his head for Esca to come.  
  
Every light was out, but Esca still got the impression of an immaculate space filled with simple, quality furniture and the warm, cosy scent of fresh laundry. That was all Esca could glean from the adjoined living room and kitchen, because Aquila was passing by him and shoving a duffel bag against his chest, saying, “Take this, let’s go.”  
  
“ _Where_?” Esca snapped, growing fowl-tempered with being left in the dark. He understood they were in a rush, but he didn’t appreciate being out of the know.  
  
Aquila slung a bag over his own broad shoulder and walked to the kitchen. “Garage.”  
  
“Right, but where after that?” Esca said as he followed Aquila through a door and down a rickety iron staircase that he knew would lead right into the garage.  
  
Aquila paused at the base of the steps and looked over his shoulder. The intensity of his expression was like a kick to Esca’s already-aching gut.  
  
“I don’t know.”

***

“Is  _that_  one dead?” Esca said, referring the poor sod abandoned in his driveway, a mile in the distance. He’d never seen Aquila lift a hand in violence until tonight, and he’d just ninja’ed the fuck out of the final man in black.  
  
Aquila drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. “No.”  
  
“Oh.” Esca picked at a fingernail. “Wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d just killed them all?”  
  
“For whom?” Aquila said, sounding bland, even when Esca could swear Aquila’s shoulders would burst from the seams of his suit, due to the tension they held.  
  
“Y’know –  _me_ ,” Esca said, as he shifted to stare at Aquila’s profile. Aquila’s laugh was brief and unexpected. But when he didn’t say anything in reply, Esca began to fidget. “Where are we going?”  
  
“You already asked that.”  
  
“And?”  
  
Aquila’s jaw was rigid, sharp-edged in the shadows. They passed beneath a streetlight, and the angles of his face were bathed in orange – his eyes were dark and steady on the road.   
  
“Out of Chicago,” Aquila said, finally.  
  
“Brilliant plan,” Esca said, and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s all our problems solved.”  
  
Aquila’s released a subtle sigh. “Northwest. To my Uncle’s home, if he’ll have us.”  
  
“He bloody well better.” Esca slouched deep into the seat and brought his knees up to rest against the glove compartment. “Else he’ll have me to contend with.”  
  
“We wouldn’t want that,” Aquila said, sounding like himself and not the man who’d snapped a bloke’s fingers for information.  
  
Esca now found that since he had a basis for comparison between Aquila’s usual mood and the previously severe, violent Aquila, Esca was quite grateful for his boring bodyguard.   
  
 _Hot_ , boring bodyguard.  
  
Again, not the most appropriate time or place – if there was ever even one.  
  
Esca slid down the window and thrust an arm outside, fingers spread to sift through the evening breeze. When he knew the whistling wind was loud enough to mask it, Esca sighed.  
  
This entire farce had yet to sink in. Esca’s father was an arsehole, but he wasn’t a criminal. He lied, but he wasn’t a bad bloke. Not _often_ , at least. There was obviously a misunderstanding here. If Da had up and disappeared, it was out self preservation – wasn’t it? And his dead mobile was –  
  
Well, Esca didn’t have all of the answers. If he did, he’d sort this circus out immediately. Surely if anyone could set things to rights, it would be the police.  
  
“Remind me again why we’ve bolted from a crime scene,” Esca said, his voice raspy from exhaustion. He could feel the evening’s adrenaline seep from his limbs, leaving his muscles and mind heavy and lax.  
  
“Even if the police believe they can help, they wouldn’t be able to protect you.”  
  
Esca yawned. “That’s a broad claim, mate.”  
  
“You  _did_  take some time out of you own little world to be present for the most recent hour of your life, right?”  
  
Esca flashed a dark look Aquila’s way. “Prick.”  
  
Aquila didn’t reply for some time. Middle class brick homes skimmed along either side of them, quiet but for a police siren howling in the far distance.  
  
“Those men were professionals, Esca,” Aquila said. And fuck, the way he said Esca’s name was still ridiculous. “They didn’t need to carry weapons – didn’t have I.D. They were there to take you, to extract information from you. Those were no thugs.”  
  
“Even so –“  
  
“And the police – they mean well, but they’re not smart. Not like those men were smart. If you were taken into custody, or even hidden at a safe house, they would still find you.” Aquila sucked in a deep breath. “They’d find you.”  
  
Esca sighed dramatically. “Aye, whatever. But how are you so  _sure_  of all that?”  
  
Aquila’s voice was low. “I know efficiency when I see it.”  
  
Esca shivered. “Oh.”  
  
“If I believed the police could help, I would take you there in an instant. I just... I have a bad feeling about this.” Aquila paused for the entirety of a red light, then, “Trust me.”  
  
Esca closed his eyes and let the muggy night air wash over him. He didn’t feel at home in Chicago – probably never would. But in this car...  
  
“For now,” Esca said softly, and allowed himself to rest.

***

Esca had passed out once they’d hit the motorway, and when he next awoke with a mouth like wool and sweat pooling at the small of his back and behind his knees, they were still on the fucking motorway.  
  
Upon cracking open his eyes, Esca didn’t move. He glanced at the dashboard clock, glowing numbers telling him he’d only been asleep about forty-five minutes, and that it was still the pitch of night. The radio was silent, and the only sound was the quiet whoosh of the air conditioning. Esca flicked a glance Aquila’s way, found him stiff and straight and same as he ever was. Any frustration he might’ve been feeling was masked. But at least he wasn’t wearing those bloody sunglasses.  
  
Marcus Aquila. Always dutiful and perfect. Esca hadn’t known him for a particularly long time, but that didn’t much matter. With Aquila, he was exactly what he seemed to be – superficially, at least. Past skin-deep, Esca knew fuck-all. Hadn’t bothered to ask. Hadn’t needed to know.  
  
“Hungry?” Aquila said lowly, startling Esca from his thoughts.  
  
“How’d you know I was awake?” Esca said, as he unfolded himself from his prawn-like shape in the chair. He felt gritty and minging, and his spine crackled in a million places when he shifted to an upright position.  
  
Aquila said, “In about a half hour we’ll hit a Steak ‘n Shake.”  
  
“On the run from the MIB –”  
  
“They aren’t the Men in Black, Esca –”  
  
“And all you can think of is your next meal? For shame, Aquila.”  
  
“I was thinking about  _your_  next meal, but if that’s how you want to play it.”  
  
Esca folded a leg beneath him and stared at Aquila. Despite the barren stretch of motorway ahead, Aquila kept his eyes on the road.  
  
Esca shrugged. “Well, if we’re passing it anyway. I’d kill for a side-by-side shake.” Esca cleared his throat. “Although, I guess you wouldn’t.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Kill for a shake. More like, disarm and disable.”  
  
This time Aquila did spare Esca a stony glance. “Is all of this just a joke to you? Because I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, until now.”  
  
Esca felt his face heat and his heart hammer. “Fuck you, Aquila. In what alternate universe of madness am I meant to confide in _you_?”  
  
“In  _no_  universe would I ever want to be  _your_  confidant. I wouldn’t be able to afford the therapy that followed.” Aquila’s hands flexed on the wheel. “Just act like an adult for once, okay?”  
  
Before Esca could contain himself – and let’s face it, he didn’t much wish to – his fist flung out and he jabbed Aquila in the jaw.  
  
“ _OW_. Fuck –  _what_  – Jesus, Esca. You little –” Aquila whipped the back of his hand out and smacked Esca square in the face.  
  
“ _OW_. You hit me!  _You_  hit  _me_ , you shitebag. I  _own_  you, arsehole!” Esca slapped Aquila upside the head, earning him a slap in return as the car jerked on the road.  
  
“ _Shut up_ , Esca, for the love of –  _agh_  – you  _bit_  me! You fucking Chihuahua of a human being, you  _bit_  me.”  
  
“Serves you fucking right. Drive this car, Aquila, and don’t speak to me unless it’s ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’, or ‘what flavours would you like in your side-by-side shake’.”  
  
Both of them were breathing hard, muted huffs beneath the sound of the air conditioning. After a thick, vibrating moment of silence, Aquila said, “Like hell I’m getting you a shake now.”  
  
Esca just scowled and folded his arms across his chest.  
  
“Are we there yet?”


	4. Chapter 4

The dead silence next woke Esca.  
  
He was the kind of person who couldn’t get his kip without something to listen to. As a child, his mother had turned on the radio; always switched to this old Christian channel that sounded straight out of the fifties. Later, it was him listening to Oasis and pretending his life was so much harder than everyone else’s. Now, it was a good fuck, and the telly on, low and fizzing in the background.  
  
So, when the dark, thick quiet descended on him like a blanket, Esca sat upright with a start.  
  
The cabin of the car was bruised blue with the morning shadow-light. The dashboard clock was off, as was the car, but Esca could tell by the way a bird sang in the distance that he’d slept for some time.  
  
Aquila didn’t look at him, and continued to stare at the neat white house with a green door and shutters. The bags beneath his eyes were smudged mauve, his hands in soft fists upon his thighs. He still wore that fucking suit in its entirety. Still kept up his appearances – unlike Esca, who’d toed off his boots long ago and felt the red mark of the window still imprinted on his cheek.  
  
“This it?” Esca asked in a voice quieter than he’d expected. Something about this hour of morning felt as close to spiritual as he ever got. There was nothing more still, more content than this hour of day.  
  
Although, Aquila looked anything but content. Esca noted the downturn of mouth; the slow, even blinks that hinted at exhaustion.  
  
“Grab my pack in the pack,” Aquila said, and got out of the car without looking back.  
  
Esca narrowed his eyes as Aquila’s retreating form. “ _You_  grab your pack,” he said, under his breath, but did as he was ordered, anyway. He made sure to grab his shoes by the laces, too.  
  
Slamming the door behind him, Esca hefted the bag over his shoulder and followed Aquila around the back of the house. “B and E?”  
  
Aquila’s answer was to pull a set of keys from his pocket and jangle them at Esca, before climbing the few steps to the back porch. “Just an E.”  
  
“Your uncle isn’t going to greet us at the door with a shotgun or anything, is he?” Esca asked as he sidled up close behind Aquila, and peered around his shoulder to watch him fumble with the keys.  
  
“Quiet.”  
  
“ _You_  be quiet with your jangling.”  
  
“How  _old_  are you?”  
  
“How old are  _you_?”  
  
“Too old for  _this_  shit,” Aquila said. He unlocked the door and held it open for Esca to go in first.

Esca strode in and sucked a breath of relief, as his limbs were washed over with icy, efficient, air-conditioning. His eyes darted about, investigating the kitchen without actually touching. He hadn’t really been in a  _normal_  American house, yet. Posh Chicago townhouses like his and his friends’ didn’t count. This was like... he was in the  _country_ , with the working-class blue-collars and shite. This kitchen was about as big as his walk-in closet.  
  
The lock clicked behind him as Aquila shut the door. Esca opened his mouth to ask something, but his thoughts were dashed by a fissure of warmth along his elbow, where Aquila’s hand cupped to move him along. Aquila’s voice was a rough and hushed at his ear, but Esca didn’t hear a word.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said –” Aquila guided Esca to a flight of stairs. “Extra bedroom’s at the top, at the end of the hall, to the right. Bathroom’s beside it. Here.” Aquila’s hand slid along Esca’s shoulder for a brief, breathless moment, until he gripped the backpack strap and lifted it away from Esca. “I’ll take this. You go up, get some rest. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”  
  
Esca was up three steps before he whirled around with a scowl. “What’re you doing?”  
  
Aquila was standing at the base of the steps, looking up. Despite the situation, Esca was still pleased to be the taller of the two, here. Aquila’s head was cocked, his brow furrowed.  
  
“I’m going to wake my uncle up, tell him we’re here.”  
  
“No, I mean –” What  _did_  he mean? “Good morning, Marcus,” Esca said softly.  
  
Aquila’s lips quirked, and again, Esca was struck with how strange it was to actually  _look_  into Aquila’s eyes without the hindrance of those daft sunnies. Aquila was almost –  _almost_  – expressive.  
  
“Morning, Esca. Sleep.”  
  
Esca raised an eyebrow. “That an order?”  
  
Aquila paused. “Yeah.”  
  
When Esca  _did_  end up flopping, naked, onto a comfortable single-sized bed, he found it wasn’t a telly or radio that put him back to sleep. It was the distant murmur of Aquila’s voice from the floor below.

***

Padding downstairs in yesterday’s clothes and bare feet, Esca felt goopy-eyed and vile. He’d had a restful sleep, but upon waking this afternoon, the entirety of the previous night had descended upon him like a sticky cloud of smog.   
  
Where the hell was his Da, and what the bloody hell was going on? Esca could only take a backseat in this mystery for so long.  
  
Revved up on nerves and feeling like a rubberband stretched tight, Esca found his way back to the kitchen. He was ready to demand answers from Aquila – or, at the very least, bully him into their next move. Now that they were out of Chicago, there had to be a new manoeuvre. Esca wouldn’t believe otherwise.  
  
The rich, golden scent of pancakes enfolded Esca like a fluffy blanket as he paused in the arched entryway. Esca had opened his mouth to speak, but found himself struck dumb as his attention latched onto the vision of Marcus Aquila in front of the cooker, clad in nothing but plaid boxers and a threadbare t-shirt.  
  
The first thing Esca thought was: This was a dream. The second thought: Aquila had the most fuckable arse he’d ever seen.  
  
“What now?” Esca said by way of greeting, wary to give Aquila’s ridiculous body a wide berth as he crossed the small kitchen and sat down at the small table cramping up the room.   
  
“Morning to you, too,” Aquila replied without much inflection, not bothering to even look at Esca. Which, as Esca’s bodyguard, he totally should. To, you know, check the state of him and stuff. Bizarre, unwanted frustration itched beneath Esca’s skin and made him doubly cross.  
  
Esca heaved a sigh, folded his arms atop the table and dropped his forehead upon them with great fanfare. “I really don’t like you,” he said, muffled and sullen.  
  
There was a moment of silence, then, “Have some pancakes.”  
  
“I don’t want your bloody pancakes.”  
  
“I promise there is no blood in my pancakes.”  
  
Esca wanted to say,  _I want my_ Da _, not your pancakes_ , but that was about as mature as a five year-old, and he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. Since when did he even desire his father’s miserable company, anyway?   
  
Oh yeah, since he’d gone fucking  _missing_.  
  
Esca knew himself well enough to understand he was the type to want something all the more when it wasn’t available to him.

The soft clatter of plates being set down had Esca whipping his head up to eye Aquila as he served pancakes. Which, to be completely honest, was the worst fucking thing he could have done. Because Aquila was stood there all scattered with morning light from the kitchen window behind him, and his eyes were this  _gold_  that made Esca think of sins and the wealth of skin barely hidden by thin, rippable clothes.  
  
Esca scowled straight into Marcus’ face and looked down into his pancakes. They smelled fucking delicious. What an arsehole for making such obviously delicious pancakes.  
  
Aquila didn’t react to Esca’s expression, just silently shifted and sat across from him at the table. While he looked to his plate and began to cut with the side of his fork, Esca stole a look up. Normally Aquila was perfectly groomed and styled. To see him like this, clothes in disarray, cooking – it made Esca feel like they were, well,  _close_.  
  
And this really wasn’t what he should be thinking about.  
  
“So,” Esca said, using his hands to rip off a fluffy morsel of pancake and stuffing it in his mouth, “What’s the plan? You think of anything?”  
  
Aquila looked up, all big eyes and stupid face. “Lay low.”  
  
Esca blinked, pancake stuffed in his cheeks like a squirrel. “Lay low.”  
  
Mountainous shoulders shrugged and Aquila dove back into his breakfast. “It’s best for now. I have contacts.” He loaded up a forkful, wrapped his lips around it, slid the fork away, chewed thoughtfully. “Someone back in D.C. may’ve heard something.”  
  
“Something,” Esca said carefully, feeling his jaw clench as he lifted the fork from his plate and tapped it on the edge of the flower-painted edge.  
  
Aquila merely flicked an eyebrow with apparent disinterest and stabbed at another golden mound of pancake. “Trying to intimidate an alternate situation out of me isn’t going to work, Esca. There isn’t any other logical path right now.”  
  
Esca’s fork clattered to the tabletop. “Fuck you,” he said softly, not altogether steady.  
  
With a soft sigh, Aquila set his fork down. In an entirely too human gesture that Esca wasn’t used to – because, let’s face it, Aquila was more monster than man – Aquila dropped his elbow to the table and rested his chin in his palm. His eyes were quiet, considering.  
  
Esca felt like a window, made of glass and plain as day to see straight through. He glared. “What?”  
  
“What exactly do you think we should do?”  
  
Esca’s eyes narrowed quickly, but once he realised from Aquila’s tone and expression that he wasn’t being patronising, he calmed a bit. “What the hell do you think? I think we should find my father, or at least try to find out who has last seen him. I think we should speak to the police like normal people would in this situation. I  _don’t_ think we should be engaging in incriminating shit such as running away with our tails between our legs. I’m not afraid, Aquila.  _You_  are.”  
  
The screech of Aquila’s chair as it raked backwards made Esca flinch. He watched Aquila stand abruptly, his eyes going dark, hard amber. With hands fisted at his sides, Aquila spoke with all the poise of stature.  
  
“It takes a lot to frighten someone like me, Esca.” Aquila paused, flicked a look away, then back to Esca. “You being in danger – that’s–” Aquila huffed a breath that almost sounded like a laugh and ran a hand over his head, rest his palm on the nape of his neck. “Anyway, you know where the bathroom is if you want a shower. Television is in the other room. Don’t use the computer. Don’t contact anyone. You can go in the backyard, but not the front. I’m going to – I need to –”  
  
Aquila waved Esca off and promptly exited the room, leaving Esca with too many questions and too many pancakes.

***

By midday, Esca wanted to jump out of his skin. He’d gone up for a shower to cool himself down and when he’d come out and dressed, he’d found a note on the refrigerator in Aquila’s awful handwriting. Esca hadn’t imagined Aquila would have such an unintelligible scrawl.  
  
The short of it was that Aquila was off to get rid of the car, trade it in for something more nondescript. And he hadn’t even thought to take Esca along. Fucker.  
  
Also, Aquila’s uncle – Esca couldn’t remember if his name had been mentioned and, at this point, didn’t particularly care – was off at work. Wherever that was.  
  
So that left Esca home alone and antsy. He had nothing but his thoughts, his worries to keep him company. Which left him with really only one thing to do. Esca wove through the few rooms of the house and located the computer. It looked a bit dated, but nothing too horrifying.   
  
So, he sat down and began to search for his father.


	5. Chapter 5

Esca had the muzzy impression of warm fingertips brushing his scalp, threading through his hair in one gentle sweep. He hummed his pleasure and sighed, tilting happily back into his nap, stretched out, stomach-down along the length of the couch.  
  
And bolted up with a sharp gasp.  
  
Blinking into the darkness of the living room, Esca grimaced and looked around. There was no one present. In fact, thinking on it, that dream he’d had probably occurred  _hours_  ago. After he’d come up with fuck-all via the internet – but for some very recent articles about the shooting and the lockdown that had followed – Esca had sat on the sofa and promptly passed out. He’d only snatched a few hours sleeping previously, anyway.  
  
Waking up with sticky eyes, a sore neck, zero concept of the time, and an aching memory of being touched like he mattered equalled a rather sour Esca.  
  
Raking his hands through his hair, Esca cracked a yawn studied the empty room. The house was silent, which he found a bit odd. Had Aquila still not returned?  
  
Standing, Esca gave a spine cracking stretch – pausing with his hands in the air as he noted the wall opposite him was lined with portraits. And, in the darkness, he was certain some of them were of a young Aquila.   
  
Narrowing his eyes and adjusting fully to the shadows, Esca wandered closer, a half-smile already pulling at his mouth. There was an Aquila in full military garb, looking like the proud prat that he was. In fact, if Esca had his uniforms correct, that was a Marine get-up Aquila was strapped into.  
  
“Huh,” Esca said into the dark. That was kind of hot. Hot and mysterious. He would have to poke and prod about that later – but it definitely explained all the ninja shit. Plus, the pole up Aquila’s arse.  
  
A photo beside that was of Aquila as a baby. He was all wide green eyes and mussed bronze hair, with a big, gap-toothed smile lighting up the portrait. Esca couldn’t help but find himself grinning back. And when he realised he was, he frowned and glowered.  
  
“Numpty,” Esca said under his breath, unsure of to whom he was referring. Turning on his heel, he headed out of the front room and into the kitchen, which was lit up, but still empty. Esca sucked in a breath and loudly said, “Where the bloody hell  _is_  everybody?”  
  
There was a span of silence, then Aquila’s voice from the back garden, “You don’t have to yell.”  
  
Esca rolled his eyes as he stomped towards the door and yanked it open. A wave of humidity swamped his throat and had him wishing he were completely starkers. Every thin layer of clothing felt immediately heavy and damp. Fuck American weather.  
  
Letting the door slam behind him, Esca meandered over to Aquila with a suspicious look and his hands stuffed in his pockets. The yard was splashed with pale, buttery light from the porch lights. Aquila was modelling – because  _fuck_  if the bastard ever just  _wore_  clothes like a normal human being – long board shorts in a shade of green that was way too bright for his stupid sour face and a t-shirt with some popular sport logo scrawled across the front. He was dressed like a Californian, not a bodyguard. And it made Esca bite back a whimper. 

“You yelled, too,” Esca said as he stood a distance from Aquila, on the other side of the smoking barbeque that separated them. The grass felt like a thick, cool carpet between Esca’s toes, and he didn’t resist wiggling them a bit. A few fire flies danced in the dark, twinkling in the grass, in the air.   
  
“I raised my voice so you would hear me. You were like a British howler monkey.”  
  
Esca flicked up two fingers. “Get t’fuck, Yankee. I’m Scots, not British.”  
  
The flash of teeth that followed nearly had Esca on his arse. That was the power of Aquila’s ridiculous, unexpected needs-a-law-against-it smile. Aquila looked down quickly, as if he realised he wasn’t be professional or some shit. He flipped the burgers sizzling before him and quietly said, “I made some calls.”  
  
Esca’s gaze sharpened. Striding to Aquila’s side, Esca broke the space between them and sidled up at Aquila’s elbow. “And?”  
  
“And nobody I know has anything of much use. The Ambassador hopped in a car before the police could cage everyone in for questioning. He must have swapped vehicles soon after, because his licence plates weren’t spotted exiting the city. That I’m aware of, at least.”  
  
Esca could swear he heard his teeth crack with the force of his clenched jaw. “So basically, you know _nothing_  of use to me.”  
  
Aquila’s attention snapped to Esca. “I’m doing what I can with the limited means I have.”  
  
“Don’t you think we’d know more if we were actually in  _contact_  with the police?” Esca said sharply, his hands fisting in his pockets.  
  
“Possibly. I can’t say no. But I already told you –”  
  
“That you’re a suspicious bastard. Yeah, I got th–” Esca gasped as he found his arms clasped in Aquila’s iron grip, big  _big_  hands curled above his elbows and yanking him in with a bruising force.  
  
“Did that guy punch you in the fucking  _head_ , Esca?” Aquila said with an unrestrained rasp to his voice that had Esca gaping. “Have you completely forgotten what happened  _yesterday_? Those men work above the authorities. Whatever your father was into – and I won’t let you deny that his actions aren’t suspicious on  _every_  level – whatever he was into, someone wants in on it, too.”  
  
Aquila must’ve realised that he was choking off the blood from Esca’s arms, because he promptly pushed Esca back a step and released. He inhaled deeply, his eyes shadowed and unreadable in the bruised evening. His voice was soft and rough in the night. “I’m not saying it again.”  
  
They were silent for a long time – Esca, lost for words, for once, and Aquila obviously training his expression back to neutrality. Esca flinched suddenly, realising the vehemence with which he wanted Aquila to continue being a  _normal guy_  was overwhelming every fibre of his being.   
  
Because even though Aquila was scolding him, he kind of sounded like he cared. Maybe. No one had ever really scolded Esca. Not since he was incredibly wee. No one had ever really given a shit to do so.  
  
Wait, Aquila was  _scolding_  him.

“ _Fuck_  you, mate. I’m not your wean!” With a huff of breath, Esca made a face and stomped down on Aquila’s foot. The following howl was enough to swell Esca’s chest with petty victory.  
  
“You little –” Aquila hissed as Esca made a break for the back door. Esca hadn’t gone five feet before he found his world upturning, and he was staring down at the grass – at Aquila’s  _arse_. “Child,” Aquila said sharply. “You  _are_  an absolutely fucking child.”  
  
“Let me go you goddamn fandan!” Esca wriggled, his face going red with indignation.  
  
“I don’t know what the fuck a fandan is, so you’re hardly insulting me,” Aquila said, his sentence interrupted with random huffs as Esca beat his fists with full force against Aquila’s spine.  
  
“ _Marcus_!”  
  
In one lithe movement that had Esca glad his crotch was no longer pressed against Aquila’s shoulder because that would have suddenly been all sorts of awkward, Aquila flipped Esca into his arms and flattened him onto the ground. He straddled Esca’s stomach and sat down, very obviously not resting the entirety of his weight atop Esca, or else he’d be crushed.  
  
Pillowed in the grass with Aquila’s blessed body mounted on top of him, Esca cursed his pale face, because he knew it would be up in flame. Aquila’s t-shirt had hiked up in the fray, the hem just wrinkled enough to flash a sliver of gold skin at his hip. He appeared cool, calm, and completely controlled. Esca struggled to sit once, twice, then flopped back with shallow, enraged breaths.  
  
“Let me up,” Esca said, scrambling for calm in his voice.  
  
“Let me think –  _no_.” Aquila raised his eyebrows and leaned in, one hand bracketing Esca’s wrist and pushing it against the ground. “I give you logic and you react like a four year-old, so I’m going to treat you like a four year-old.”  
  
Esca’s natural defence kicked in. Lowering his eyelashes, Esca flicked the tip of his tongue along the corner of his mouth, then chewed his moist lower lip for a second. “Not sure this is an entirely appropriate position, then, darlin’.”  
  
There was no missing Aquila’s sharp inhale, nor the way his fingers stiffened around Esca’s wrist before they released. Something dark glimmered in Aquila’s eyes, and then he was on his feet like lighting, his back to Esca as he lay there on the ground with an awe-struck smile on his face.  
  
Aquila visibly squared his shoulders and said, “I think the burgers are burn–”  
  
“D’you fancy blokes, Marcus?” Esca said it before he could stop himself. And, hell, he wouldn’t want to stop himself. That didn’t mesh well with who he was. He sat up, knees bent, and leaned back on his elbows. Waiting.  
  
“No,” Aquila said, almost immediately. “No, I don’t.”  
  
Esca aimed a narrow look at Aquila’s back, but received nothing further.  
  
Aquila’s sounded distant when he said, “Let’s order pizza.”  
  
And Esca was still waiting. Because he didn’t believe Aquila for a  _second_.

***

Esca had to hand it to Aquila. The bloke had eyes like a steel trap and an arsenal of clipped one-liners sharp enough to take off a limb. From the point where Aquila robotically took Esca’s pizza order and dumped the charred, hockey-puck burgers into the bin, Esca felt like he was interacting with impenetrable Plexiglas.  
  
Smirking to himself, Esca grabbed a slice of pizza as big as his head and bit in. He’d obviously struck a nerve with Aquila, Esca mused as he chewed thoughtfully and eyed Aquila’s bulletproof facade.  
  
Esca wasn’t stupid. He was daft, but he wasn’t stupid. And although he’d previously felt entirely in the dark regarding Aquila’s mystery sexuality, all of a sudden every sign pointed to QUEER.  
  
Maybe the stress and pressure of their current shitty situation was getting to Aquila more than he let on. Or maybe he’d been pining over Esca since  _forever_. Esca couldn’t help his smug-as-hell smile as he watched Aquila sullenly eat from across the table.  
  
Right. Maybe Esca was getting a little ahead of himself. Or slightly delirious. But where was the fun in being entirely sensible?  
  
“Oiy,” Esca said, breaking the tension as he chowed down and spoke with mouth full. “The fuck’s your uncle?”  
  
Aquila flicked a barricaded look his way. “Told him to go on a fishing trip. Less he knows, the better for him.”  
  
Esca rolled his eyes and swallowed. “How spy film of you.”  
  
“This isn’t a movie, Esca. This is real life.”  
  
Esca put on a low, dopey imitation of Aquila’s flat American accent. “ _This isn’t a movie, Esca_. Aye, I  _know_.”  
  
He  _knew_ , for fuck’s sake. But Esca was jailed to this house, and if he didn’t laugh or distract himself, he just might go mad with worry – with fear.  
  
“So,” Aquila said, ripping a large vee of pizza off like he wished it were Esca’s throat, “Act like it.”  
  
“You’re my sodding bodyguard, not my counsellor. Don’t have’ta take advice from  _your_  lacking wisdom.”  
  
Aquila just shot him a sniper’s look. They both ate in strained silence for a while, the radio Esca had switched on before they’d sat playing some soulful, honeyed blues as thick and heady as the sticky summer night.  
  
“So,” Esca said, after his third slice of greasy goodness. He wiped his hands on his ratty jeans and belatedly realised this was his only change of clothes. Bollocks. “Why’ve I not been reported missing, then? M’I not worth making the news?”  
  
Aquila polished off his fifth slice; licked the pad of his thumb. Esca was almost shocked to realise that although he’d never seen Aquila eat until recently, the guy packed it away like a man starved. How did he  _not_  weigh as much as a lorry? What was with that ridiculously god-like body? Life dealt some unfair cards.  
  
Once Aquila had finished chewing and had scrubbed his long fingers off with a flimsy, ripped napkin, he shrugged. “I called the housekeeping service. Told them that due to the stress of recently arisen circumstances, you’d be spending some time away from the city. Didn’t specify where you’d be, so they’ll remain clueless and unhelpful to anyone who comes asking. The fact that you come off as an impulsive, spoiled brat helps it seem as if I have no choice but to follow you where you go.”  
  
Esca broke into a predatory smile, pleased when Aquila met his gaze evenly. “You  _don’t_  have any other choice, pet.”  
  
Aquila slid a look to the side, away. “Apparently.”

“And, what, then?” Esca said, falling into a frown. “Poor little Juanita or whatever –”  
  
“You’re so racist.”  
  
“I’m sure that’s her name. Anyway, she’s gonna come in to wash my pants and find a load of black-clothed bodies lying about the house?”  
  
To that, Aquila was silent for a moment, his face hard. “I took a chance.”  
  
Esca barked a laugh. “ _You_? Spontaneous? Now I actually am starting to think I was clocked in the coopin.”  
  
Aquila faintly shook his head, looked to Esca with an earnest expression. “I hadn’t killed any of those men. And by the way they were acting, I assumed they were the type to clean up their mess and disappear without a trace.” He shrugged again, his wide shoulders straining against the thin cotton of his shirt. “Seems as if they’ve done just that.”  
  
Veering his attention from that distracting chest, Esca scowled and chucked a balled-up napkin at Aquila, who didn’t dodge it. “So you’re allowed to take chances and I’m not?”  
  
“Yes. That’s exactly right. It’s –”  
  
“My job. I  _got_  it. Arse.” Esca slid from his seat, planning on storming out in grand fashion – until Aquila reached out and gripped Esca’s wrist for the second time tonight. Esca couldn’t help the hot, languid pull in his stomach as he paused and peered down with a haughty raise of eyebrows. He’d neared snapping something witty, until he realised Aquila’s face had gone a deep cherry red.  _Angry_  red.  
  
“ _How_  did you know you hadn’t been reported missing yet, Esca.”  
  
And that was so not a question. The iron-clad words left no wiggle room.  
  
Esca shrugged, even as his throat tightened with nerves. He wouldn’t let this oaf make him feel like a child. They were on well equal footing here. “I checked up on myself – who wouldn’t do the same?”  
  
“You mean you used the computer when I told you not to.”  
  
Esca snorted and attempted to rip away from Aquila’s grip, to no avail. “I’m not eleven fucking years old, Aquila. I can do what I want without  _your_  bloody permission.”  
  
Aquila’s face was set in stone, his dark gaze gone a deep, earthy green. “Did you contact anyone?”  
  
To Esca’s credit, he did not startle. Just raised his eyebrows. “What?”  
  
“ _Did_  you or did you not make contact with anyone while you were on the computer,  _Esca_.”  
  
“Ah.” Esca licked his lips quickly, thought of his mum. Considered the quick, one-line email he’d dashed off, telling her he was alright and laying low for the time being. His parents were long-divorced, and Esca was fairly certain that if his father dropped off the face of the Earth that his mum would throw a party. But she’d definitely fret over Esca. “Nope.”  
  
Aquila appeared unmoved. His eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me the truth?”  
  
Esca frowned and finally yanked from Aquila’s hot hold. “Do you  _really_  think I’d lie to you at a time like this, Aquila?”  
  
The twin sparks of guilt and acceptance that flashed across Aquila’s face were enough to have Esca fleetingly wish he hadn’t said that. But, self-preservation and all.  
  
Aquila’s silent nod was his only reaction. He stood and began collecting the boxes of pizza, his back turned to Esca in a glaring sign of dismissal. He didn’t even say goodnight.  
  
That night, Esca did not sleep well at all.


	6. Chapter 6

For once, Esca actually awoke before Aquila. But that was probably because Esca had hardly slept in the first place. Something heavy and hard had tumbled around his stomach, like stones that left him bruised from the inside out by morning. The chittering of buggy nightlife hadn’t been enough to lull Esca into sleep, and he hadn’t gathered more than a handful of hours’ fitful rest.  
  
Without showering, Esca tugged on his clothes – fuck’s sake, was this day three of wearing these manky threads? Padding barefoot down the hall, Esca noted Aquila’s door was open a crack. Esca didn’t hesitate to have a peek – his excuse was to make sure that the big lug was still sound asleep.  
  
Esca bit back a groan and really wished he hadn’t looked.  
  
As expected of a robot like Aquila, the room was perfectly ordered. Boots set side-by-side against the wall, no clothes strewn about the floor, the blinds neatly let down and not crooked in the slightest. The only mess was the bed. Every fluffy pillow was strewn on the floor, the thick quilt bunched at the foot and skimming the floorboards.  
  
Soft, cream sheets were tangled around Aquila’s long –  _oh god, so long_  – legs. He was face-down on the mattress, splayed out with his cheek resting on his folded arms. A leg was bent just enough that one heavily-scarred knee jutted off the edge of the bed. Aquila was clad in nothing but clinging, black boxer briefs that slung low at the small of his back and exposed thick, tan thighs. The curve of his arse was a stark outline among all the pure sheets and early morning sunlight.  
  
Even with Aquila’s features in repose – lips softly parted, breathing shallow and long eyelashes fluttering briefly – he looked like pure sin to Esca.  
  
And Esca thought he might hyperventilate at any moment. He hadn’t realised he’d been leaning fully in the doorway; in plain view should Aquila open his eyes. Didn’t snap out of it until he had to fist his hands into his jeans to keep from stomping over and touching every golden mile of that sculpted body.   
  
Sucking in a sharp breath, Esca backed out of the room, his eyes lingering on the curiously massive scar on Aquila’s knee before turning on his heel and hurdling downstairs. He didn’t really breathe until he’d shoved on his boots without tying them and dashed out into the back garden.  
  
Esca paused on the bottom step, inhaled sweet morning air that hinted at humidity but was still light enough to carry a breeze. And he told himself to stop being such a fucking girl over Marcus Aquila.  
  
It had always been fun and games to indecently moon – or have a lengthy wank – over him, but that was different. That was not them living, eating, and talking with each other on a regular basis. This was not Esca relieving his sexual frustrations in the city whenever he pleased, and there was no place for either of them to run from each other when their tempers collided.  
  
That was a revelation, too, Esca thought as he shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched around the house to meet the sidewalk. Aquila was not all subtle emotions and damp temperament. He  _could_ , actually, smile and snarl and even laugh on the rare occasion. He could also get angry, and that was new for Esca.  
  
Maybe he kind of enjoyed Aquila getting riled-up for Esca’s sake only. Or maybe he was just blanketing Aquila with his attentions because he didn’t want to linger over what was happening around them.  
  
The thought had Esca scowling as he stalked down what seemed to be the Main Street of this shitter of a town. A fissure of anxiety crackled in Esca’s gut, made him feel ill – and so he promptly ducked into a bakery and distracted himself with cakes and coffee. Fuck if he was going to mope.

Minutes later, Esca approached the house with a bag of pastries in one hand and two large coffees in the other. The dark, heady aroma of caffeinated gold was almost perking Esca’s sour mood until he looked down the street and realised that a very large and bare-chested Aquila was homing in on him like an incoming missile.  
  
“Uh,” was all Esca managed before Aquila wrapped bruising fingers around the crook of Esca’s elbow and began to wordlessly drag him across the pavement.  
  
Esca felt like a fish with the way his mouth opened and closed with no chance of speech. All he could do was gape at Aquila’s profile. The strong jaw, the hard features, the fiery eyes. Aquila looked like a warrior, his wide barrel of his chest glinting in the hazy lemon light. All he needed was a splatter of blood across his face for the picture to be complete.  
  
Esca shivered and didn’t realise he’d been led into the house until Aquila released him and spun around.  
  
“Just  _what_  part of ‘stay inside the house’ do you not comprehend?” For the first time, Aquila spoke with his hands – wide palms waving with unabashed expression. “Are we speaking a different language, Esca? What do I need to do to get it through your head that you could  _die_? Three days ago, someone wanted to  _kill_  your father for whatever he might be involved in. Then they went after  _you_. Do you think they’ll stop there?”  
  
During Aquila’s rant he’d inched forward, and with each step, Esca had backed up. He’d been unable to do anything but hold the stupid coffee and the stupid donuts while Aquila loomed over him and raged. It was when the small of Esca’s back bumped against the countertop and Aquila closed the space between them, just this side off Too Close, that they both stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathing hard.  
  
“I know –” Aquila began, his expression softening, but his brow still low and furrowed as he watched Esca’s face closely. “Ah, I know this is the last place you want to be. Stuck with me in what basically amounts to a prison. I know this is as far from your ideal position as can be. But.” Aquila seemed suddenly drained of energy and he lurched forward, his arms locking Esca in a cage as he placed his hands on the counter-space on either side of Esca’s hips. He dropped his head down, his lips a whisper away from Esca’s forehead. Aquila shut his eyes, took a long, quiet breath. “But I need to do my job. I don’t care if it makes you angry as a wet cat in a pillowcase. I’m going to do what I need to do to keep you safe.”  
  
All Esca had to do was look up and tip on to his toes in order to capture Aquila’s soft, full lips. He could spill coffee and cakes across the tile and slide his hands along those bronze-cut chest, shoulders, arms. Esca was on the precipice of everything he’d been dreaming of.  
  
And the only thing consuming his head, his heart, was that Aquila  _wanted_  to take care of him. Esca couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever really wanted to. His chest almost sort of hurt.

“Marcus...” Esca swallowed. “I bought you coffee.” He gesture with the cardboard holder in his hand. “I didn’t know how you took it, so I chose black. Like your soul.”  
  
Aquila didn’t move from his spot, but he did open his eyes – they were no longer clouded, but clear, bright green amber – and peered between them. His lips twitched. “I think you might be thinking of yourself with that one, but thanks. That’s how I take it. What’s in the bag?”  
  
Esca found that, despite his playful advances on Aquila the previous night, he was currently wholly unable to hold a decent conversation when this unnervingly close to Aquila. He narrowed his eyes and put on a sour face. “You’re not gonna find out unless you get up out of my business.”  
  
After a clueless few blinks, it seemed that Aquila’s compromising position sunk in. He averted his gaze sharply and snapped back like he’d been burnt. “Sorry,” he said under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he took the coffee holder from Esca with the other.  
  
Aquila really needed to put on a sodding shirt, though, Esca thought with a held breath. He let it out in a huff and rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. But I’m hungry and I can’t have you Hulking the fuck out every second I act of my own accord. I’m not going to run away, Aquila.” Esca made a  _duh_  face and waved a dismissive hand. “There is a bed here. And – I looked in the fridge – alcohol. I’m a happy chap.”  
  
“You also need clothes,” Aquila said as he set the coffees down on the kitchen table and turned to nip the pastry bag from Esca’s fingers. He eyed Esca up and down once, in a way that made Esca’s mouth dry out. “I’ll get some stuff for you today.”  
  
Esca’s laugh was genuine as he dropped onto a chair and smoothly crossed his legs. “Like hell you’re buying  _anything_  for me, pet. I can’t trust you as far I can throw you.”  
  
Aquila quirked an eyebrow as he brought the coffee cup to his mouth. “And why’s that?”  
  
“Because I have now seen how you dress outside of those stifling suits and shades.” Esca gestured to all of Aquila without really looking – the last thing he needed to do was take a good long leer while his insides were all churned up. “It’s like Abercrombie exploded. Cheap, male prostitutes all over the place.”  
  
“Huh,” Aquila said with a musing, mild tone. Their eyes locked over the table. “Sounds like your type.”  
  
Esca cursed his tomato-red face and glowered. He grabbed at the bag on the table and selected the thing that at least vaguely resembled a Gregg’s Yum Yum. “No, thanks,” he said and took a large bite, stared at the table. “I’d rather go in the scud than dress like some all-American twat.”  
  
“That can be arranged,” Aquila said with a warning note to his voice.  
  
Esca flitted a look Aquila’s way and scowled at the ominous expression. “Fine. But if I don’t like what you get or it doesn’t fit properly, I will make you take it back.”  
  
“Oh, goody.”  
  
“And don’t even think of buying me shorts. I won’t wear them.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Or flip-flops. They feel wonky between my toes.”  
  
“ _Fine_.”  
  
“And no –”  
  
“ _Esca_.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

There was only so much wandering, nosing about, and daytime telly that Esca could take. At this point, he was just shy of climbing the walls. And it was only midday.

After the altogether extremely uncomfortable kitchen scene hours earlier, Aquila had quickly excused himself under the guise of buying Esca some clothes. Esca liked to think that he was finally making Aquila uncomfortable. Damn if the bastard didn't deserve it, after his months of making Esca feel like a hormonal teenager again.

For lack of literally _nothing_ better to do, Esca made a beeline for the fridge. He poked his head in and smirked.

“At least Uncle Whatever has good taste in beer.” Esca grabbed the entire six-pack and meandered to the back garden.

The afternoon heat was like a hot, sticky fist around his throat, and Esca immediately felt his back prickle with sweat. With a groan, Esca plopped down onto the bottom porch step, stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. He vaguely regretted ordering Aquila not to buy him shorts – he felt like he was stewing in his own juices in these bloody jeans.

Anyway, as far as Esca could figure it, his life was ripping apart at the seams, he had the hots for a guy he wasn't allowed to touch with a ten foot pole – let alone with his dick – and he was Scottish. The last bit meant that he might as well drink away his problems, because fuck if there was anything better to do.

“Cheers,” Esca said to a squirrel, toasting the beady-eyed creature with a cracked-open can.

Thanks to the heat, the first can went down in a few long, satisfying swigs.

The rest went down almost as easily.

***

“Well, well, well,” Esca said with a drawl, waving the last can – half empty – at Aquila as he rounded the side of the house with bags in each hand. “If it isn't tall, dark 'n dour-faced.”

Despite the sunglasses Aquila wore, the way he stopped short and stared was enough to illustrate his dismay. “Are you _wasted_?”

“If you mean wasted on this boring as _fuck_ life, then aye.” Esca grinned wide and bit down on his bottom lip. “If you mean the _other_ wasted... then, also aye.”

Aquila's mouth opened, then clamped shut. Without a word, he started up the few steps to the back door.

“ _Oooh_ , no you don't,” Esca said and wrapped an arm around one of Aquila's bare calves. “Christ, are you made of stone or something? Your muscles are like... what was I talking about? Oh, _right_. Sit the fuck down here.” Esca tugged shamelessly on Aquila's leg. “I've been abandoned for _hours_ with nothing to do and you can't just come home and ignore me.”

“Looks to me like you found something to do.”

“Arsehole. You're a grade A arsehole.” Esca tugged harder, sending Aquila off balance and swearing under his breath.

“Fine. _Fine_.” There was barely enough room for the two of them on one cement step, but they managed. Sweaty arm to sweaty arm, shoulders hard against each other. Aquila was stiff beside him, his gaze lowered, seemingly looking at the bags he'd left at their feet. “I got you clothes. Bought us cellphones with each other's numbers programmed in. Just in case.”

“Did you buy shorts?” Esca felt delightfully dizzy, and so rested his temple upon Aquila's mountainous shoulder. “I need shorts. I'm dying. I just want to be naked.”

“You told me not to buy shorts.” Aquila didn't move, didn't stop staring at the distance. At Esca's frustrated noise, Aquila flicked him an indistinguishable look from behind the sunglasses and said, “Good thing it's not my job to listen to you.”

“Y'know, I think you were less of a dick back when you were pretending not to have a personality.”

“Only you bring this level of dick out in me,” Aquila said with barest lilt of humour in his voice. “Under normal circumstances, I get time away from you to sleep it off.”

Esca leaned back, propping his elbows on the stone step behind him. The sun beat down on them both, and Esca wondered if it was the drink, the heat, or the rapid thud of his heart that was causing his face to burn. “Do I affect you that much?”

Aquila slipped off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “It's not a compliment, Esca.”

“Marcus?”

“Yeah?” Aquila looked over his shoulder.

Esca sat up and pressed his mouth to Aquila's. The kiss tasted like salty sweat and something uniquely Aquila. Something like summer.

Aquila's breath rushed out through his nose sharply as he leaned in with firm lips that just barely parted to let Esca in. Esca's vaguely registered the following sigh as his own.

Then Aquila was pulling back, his eyes intense and hot as a lightning strike.

“Esca.”

“ _Mmm_?” Esca was leaning into Aquila, his head muddled from the beer, the heat, the kiss.

“We're not doing this,” Aquila said, his voice tight. He gripped Esca's arms with firm, wide palms and kept him at what distance he could, despite being squished on the same stair.

“We already are.” Esca grinned, coaxed on not only by liquid courage, but the deer in the headlights look Aquila was getting. That was certainly a new one.

“You're drunk.” Aquila visibly swallowed hard as Esca placed a hand on his knee, thumb idly stroking his inner thigh. “And going through a difficult time. And I _work_ for you.”

“ _Eh_ , technically you work for my father.” The minute Esca said it, his buzz flat-lined. His father. Right. As much as he hated to admit it, he _was_ going through a shite time. Although, that didn't mean his heart was set to burst out his chest with the realisation that Aquila didn't look put off or disgusted by the kiss.

“So.” Esca studied Aquila's face, watching him subtly struggle for stoicism. “If it weren't for all of those things, then...”

“I need a shower, I'm gross,” Aquila said abruptly, as he stood. “Look through the clothes. What you don't like, leave in the bag and I'll return them tomorrow.”

With that, Aquila was gone. The screen door slammed shut behind him.

Esca huffed a breath and said, loud enough to be heard from inside the house. “What the fuck kind of answer is _that_? Cock!”

Why did he even bother?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're moving things along again. Hang on for the ride!
> 
> Updates shouldn't take as long as this one did - I was on holiday for two months.

Esca refused to sulk. He was better than that.

So, if he stomped up the stairs a bit louder than necessary, it was just because he was a wee bit drunk.

Slamming his bedroom door behind him, Esca threw the bags of clothes onto the rumpled sheets. He fell back onto the mattress with a rush of breath, his arms starfished out as he watched the ceiling fan spin.

In the quiet of the room, with only the gentle hum of the air conditioner over his thoughts, Esca could admit that this had probably been a bad fucking idea. His dick had gotten him into more than a few unsavoury situations, but he was fairly this was the World Cup winner of awkward.

Aquila was doing his job by taking care of Esca. Aye, he was obviously going above and beyond the call of duty here - but that was one of the things Esca had grown to like about him in the past days.

Esca absently rubbed his mouth, his lips still buzzing from the brief kiss. He felt his stomach drop. He really did _like_ Aquila. _Bollocks_.

Pushing that mounting pile of rubbish from his thoughts, Esca sat up and began to rummage through his bags. He took his time, both waiting to hear Aquila finish showering and to also wait for his beer buzz to fade.

Most of the clothes were actually fairly decent. Esca was kind of surprised. People didn't particularly _buy_ him things – and certainly not clothes. But these were good, as far as shopping at some low-budget chain store went. Esca supposed he wasn't meant to stand out, anyway. That was the entire point of what they were doing. 

Esca wondered what they'd do next. What else Aquila knew, if anything. And how long they'd be stuck in this bloody house together.

If only he could get back on the computer, find out what was happening. What if they'd already found his dad and Esca didn't know about it? What if Esca was just sitting around, mooning over some stupidly pretty farmboy while his father was hurt somewhere, praying for help? Esca swallowed the jackhammer panic that cracked painfully against his ribcage.

Before he let the hopelessness choke him, Esca shot from the bed and flung the door open to the corridor. _Air_ , he needed air.

And slammed straight into Aquila's hard, bare, _wet_ chest. Without any of Esca's usual defences up, he could only tilt his chin and stare agape. Droplets of water dotted those broad, bronze shoulders. Aquila's cheeks were flushed from either the shower or this moment, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Esca, are you o-”

“ _Nuuuooo_ , nope, no, I'm not even going to look at you right now, you fucking arsehole.” Esca whipped his hands up as if mere thought of touching Aquila's stupidly amazing body was disgusting, and edged past him. “Put some damn clothes on and don't talk to me unless it's something to do with A: getting out of here, or B: my father.”

Before Aquila could reply, Esca shot into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He leaned against it and released a ragged breath.

Jesus Christ, he'd been _this_ close to jumping Aquila simply out of the desperate need for distraction.

But Esca was better than that.

Although the fact that he kept having to repeat said mantra to himself was making it harder and harder to believe it's truth.

Esca could swear he heard a heavy sigh from the other side of the door.

He needed a cold shower.

***

After the shower and fresh change of clothes – dark grey skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt – Esca felt a hundred percent more in control.

Yet, he still stood at the stop of the stairs, one hand clamping over and wringing the wrist that wore the thick, silver eagle cuff.

He could hear Aquila rustling about downstairs, the telly on in the background. CNN, by the sounds of it. Probably listening out for any news of his father. The mysteriously missing, run-away Ambassador.

Yeah, that wasn't going to go away any time soon. Esca could wish on every fucking star for that to not be so, but in the end, the facts were the facts. He had to face it sooner or later.

Remembering that Aquila had bought Esca a phone, he dashed back into his room and grabbed it from the bed. It was already on, and Aquila's number was the only one saved in the address book. The mobile also had internet. Esca grinned to himself and sat down, praising whatever deity existed for 3G.

His smile faded over the next half hour, a crease cutting it's way across his brow and a heavy frown pulling at his mouth. There were several articles riddling the web regarding Eion MacCunoval's disappearance.

Aquila was right. It didn't look good. The gunshot happened, the assistant died, and his father was off in a car like the devil was on his heels. His official car was found abandoned off the highway that headed out of state. People were speculating left and right over the reason for the shooting – but, ultimately everyone was wondering why his father _ran_ if he wasn't guilty of _something_.

“Where'd you go, Da?” Esca said softly.

Esca checked his email and found it inundated with pals wondering where he was, if he was okay. He suspected most of them just wanted to be in on the gossip. That's how people were.

There was a long, panicked email from his mum. She was beyond concerned. The police had already been to hers – asking about Da's close friends, his business partners, if he had other homes of which she knew, and, of course, Esca's whereabouts.

> _I told them you were safe, but had no idea where you were. They asked for the email. Esca, they took my laptop. In case there was something incriminating on it, I can only assume. I'm writing from my phone. Where are you? Please be safe. Please don't attempt to contact your father._

Esca narrowed his eyes. _Please don't attempt to contact your father._ What the hell was she implying?

“What are you doing?”

Esca gave himself a mental point for not jumping out of his skin. He looked up mildly from his phone and considered Aquila's hardened expression. “Playing Candy Crush. What's it to you?”

“What the _hell_ are you doing, Esca? Are you contacting someone?”

Esca raised an eyebrow, locked the phone screen and set it beside him. “Not at this moment, no.”

Aquila's voice was cool, his back straight. “Don't be a smartass. Your safety is on the line here.”

“I think we're pretty safe in this bumfuck nowhere town, Aquila.”

Aquila was across the room in a shot, his hand snapping out and snatching Esca's phone from beside me.

“ _Oiy_!” Esca glared daggers as he watched Aquila manoeuvre the phone, the lock screen no doubt opening up on his mother's email.

Dead silence fell onto the room like a tonne of bricks. Esca silently harrumphed and folded his arms in front of him as he watched Aquia's expression go from annoyance to stony rage. When Aquila finally met Esca's eyes, he had to credit himself for not even flinching under that stare.

“Esca,” Aquila said with steady steel in his voice. “Do you know what the fuck an IP address is?”

It still sent a thrill down Esca's spine when Aquila swore. “I'm not a dunce, Aquila.”

“Well _apparently_ you are, because if you sent your original email from the computer in _this_ house, it means you could be traced back here.”

Esca rolled his eyes. “Who would bother?”

“I don't know,” Aquila's voice crescendoed and boomed, “Maybe the people who tried to fucking _kill you_ a few days ago? _Christ_ , Esca! Do you have _no_ sense of self-preservation or just a death wish?”

Esca stood up and invaded Aquila's space with a sneer. “ _No_ , you numpty. I wanted to tell my mother I was okay. That I was safe. That she didn't need to imagine me shot in the head on the way home from uni or whatever paranoid shite parents conjure up when they've nothing better to do. You'd have done the same.”

“This is bad, Esca.” Aquila said, peering down with a sudden softness to his mouth. “I'm not saying it's definitely going to happen, but I'm saying if someone wants to find you – and more than one party does – they will.”

 “So let's go,” Esca said quickly, searching Aquila's eyes. “I hate this and it hasn't even been a week. The boredom, the not knowing. I hate being ignorant, Marcus. I hate feeling powerless and inadequate even more.”

Aquila flicked an eyebrow. “I think inadequate is the last way I'd ever describe you.”

Esca cursed his sudden weak knees and wondered when the hell had he _ever_ had weak knees in his entire ridiculous life. “Well, whatever. You know what I mean. Let's _leave_ , Marcus. Tonight. Where else can we go?”

“Nowhere that won't cost money,” Aquila said with a shrug. A strange expression washed over his features, before it vanished.

“ _Tell me_ ,” Esca said. When Aquila hesitated, Esca scoffed and gave his shoulder a shove. “Come on, mate - I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I won't put us in mortal danger anymore.”

“That's a promise I have a hard time believing,” Aquila said under his breath as he turned away and dragged his palms over his face. That tough-guy bodyguard cage seemed to be rattling more, with each passing day. “There's one more place.”

“Where?”

Aquila looked over his shoulder, and appeared almost comically pained when he spoke.

“My sister.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter is ACTION! INTRIGUE! STUFF! SHOUTING!
> 
> So yes, keep with me, people. Things are coming to a boil.
> 
> PS Your comments are all so kind and have really helped me continue writing. <3

“Oh my god,” Esca said. “There's more than one of you?”

“There's no one like Marina,” Aquila said blandly.

Marina and Marcus. Esca could see it. He wondered if Marina was as stony as Aquila could be.

“Do you think she'd have us?”

“That's probably the most considerate thing that's ever come out of your mouth.”

Esca scowled. “Well, we are on the run from terrorists or something, Aquila. I'm not about to shove anyone else in the firing line.”

Aquila nodded soberly. “True. We could make a pit stop for the evening. Collect our bearings, make a plan. Head out from there. As long as we get out of this house.”

“Fine by me. This place is driving me mad.” _You're driving me mad._

Aquila studied Esca and huffed a quiet breath. “Alright. Let's pack.”

***

Marina lived off the beaten path. One moment they were in the suburbs, and the next, Aquila was turning onto a side road that led towards a heavily forested area. As they sped along in the orange twilight, Esca spotted long, winding driveways weaving between trees, leading up to vast mansions. Oh. _Oh_.

“Are you guys in the money or something?” Esca said, breaking the silence.

“Plan on stealing the cutlery?”

“Fuck you. I was just wondering. These are big houses.”

“Her husband is an architect.”

Esca hummed a noise of understanding, then frowned as Aquila exited the road and pulled into the car park of a forest preserve.

“Um, plan on murdering me and dumping the body?”

“Only every night in my dreams,” Aquila said as he turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. “Out.”

“ _Out_? Out where? That's fucking nature, Aquila. There's nowhere to go.”

“Do you have to question every decision I make, Esca?”

“Do you have to take me into a Blair Witch type forest at sunset, Aquila?”

Aquila groaned and slumped back in the driver's seat, looking up at the roof of the car, as if praying for patience. “My sister's house backs up to this forest. It's a short walk through and we'll end up on her back porch. It's smarter than pulling up front and announcing to the world where we are.”

Esca swallowed and stared at the tanned line of Aquila's throat, the sharp contour of his jaw with a shadow of evening scruff, the strong line of his nose. He was highlighted by the setting sun, a golden god if there ever was one.

And he really pissed Esca off, _dammit_.

“Whatever,” Esca said, as dismissively as his nearly weak voice would allow. “You're paranoia makes me wanna boke. You're going to grow old, alone in a house filled with rooms piled with food and guns, just waiting for the apocalypse to hit.”

Before Aquila could reply, Esca was out of the car and rapping his knuckles on the boot. It popped open and Esca grabbed both satchels, tossing Aquila's at him none too gently.

“Lead the way, soldier.”

Aquila gave Esca a look, and headed towards a clearing, where two paths began and diverged in different directions. Esca trailed behind, kicking rocks as he went and slapping a mosquito on his wrist. At least the humidity had lessened it's grip as the sun fell. It was still hot, but not unbearably so.

They'd been walking for about five minutes, before Esca could no longer bear the silence.

“So, what's your sister like?”

“Tall and frightening,” Aquila said immediately.

“Charming,” Esca muttered. “Anything I should know before I walk in there?”

“Beware the children.”

“There are children? Oh god, there are children.”

“Tony and Augie. They're, uh, very friendly.”

“Brilliant,” Esca said with as much enthusiasm as a man on his deathbed. “I love children.”

Even though Esca couldn't see Aquila's face, the smile was evident in his voice. “How could you not? You're practically one yourself. Okay, we're here. See, it wasn't that b-”

Esca had edged around Marcus, grabbed him by the collar, and smashed their mouths together. Delicacy was abandoned for a hot, wet lashing of tongue and scrape of teeth. Esca's nails dug into the scruff of Marcus' neck, holding him fast and hard. Every snap of frustration, every spark of desire consumed Esca, engulfed him in a blinding flash.

And fucking hell, did Marcus _reply_. That sinful mouth fought back with equal fire, a feral noise sounding from the back of his throat as he copied Esca's grip at his nape and tore at Esca's lips. Esca gasped for breath, the errant bite of Marcus' teeth setting him alight, burning him through, and making him nearly forget why he'd kissed Marcus in the first place.

Esca released his hold on Marcus, and _pushed_. Marcus reacted in the same way a brick wall would – that is, he didn't move an inch. Their lips parted, though, Marcus struggling for breath as he drilled Esca with a molten stare. He continued to keep Esca near with a rough palm at the back of Esca's neck.

Esca met Marcus' gaze with equal fire. “I'm not a child. Don't call me one again.”

“Esca,” Marcus said as he looked down, his voice breathy and so unlike him. When he flicked his gaze back up, Esca felt as if he'd been punched in the face with ferocity. “Get your _shit_ together. If you're not a child, then stop acting like one. Pushing and pulling me around like I'm a servant to your every tantrum and desire isn't helping your case. If I'm just some _distraction_ to you every time you get upset about something, then try acting like an adult and keep your _dick_ in your pants, because I'm not interested. Not in the slightest.”

When Marcus finally let go and turned away to stomp up the path like an angry giant, Esca just stared after him, speechless and mouth agape.

Well, _fuck_.

***

“Little brother, I nearly hit you with a goddamn bat,” were Marina's first words upon whipping the back porch door open, before Aquila could even knock. “I see two shadowed people creeping around my back yard and what am I supposed to think? You're lucky I didn't sic the dogs on you.”

Marina was indeed holding a bat, and she was even taller than Esca expected. Very nearly six foot. Athletic looking with the same olive skin, dark hair, and full lips as Aquila. Her eyes were a warm, chocolate brown. Her large feet were bare, her jean shorts were _short_ , and her red tank top had a mysterious stain on the shoulder.

“Little?” Esca said under his breath, sliding a glance toward Aquila. But he was ignored, Aquila instead enveloping his sister with a hug, his smile wide and sincere. Esca was sure he'd never seen him look so warm before. Hot and bothered, yes. But open and almost sweet? No.

There was a lot to Aquila that Esca didn't know, and the verbal whipping he'd received a minute ago had opened his eyes to how clueless he was when it came to this guy.

“Hey, Rina. Look -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marina said, slapping Aquila on the back and releasing him. “You look stressed as fuck and sneaking in through the back door. Haven't done that since high school. You're not paying a house call, are you?”

“Not exactly.” Aquila gestured to Esca without looking at him, and Esca felt his blood boil, just a little. “This is Esca.”

“ _This_ is Esca?” Marina raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows, as if she knew something Esca didn't. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Esca. I've heard about you. But don't worry, I know my brother well enough to get that this is a no-questions-asked situation.”

She smiled at Esca, bright and direct, and he could kind of see why Aquila found her slightly terrifying. She was sharp.

“Thanks for having us,” was all Esca said. With him, probably the less was better.

“Just for tonight,” Aquila said as they slipped inside and Marina closed the door. “We'll leave at dawn.”

Esca winced at the mention of dawn. The only time he was awake at that time of morning was when he was coming home from the clubs.

“Whatever you need, kiddo,” Marina said as she swept past and waved for them to follow. The house was obviously expansive, and Marina led them into a massive front room that was riddled with toys, connected to an open plan kitchen of granite and polished wood.

“Uncle Marcus!” a child's voice screamed, and without warning two weans came barrelling towards Aquila and flung themselves at him.

Aquila just laughed and lifted the youngest of the two, the other one remained hugging his long leg.

And then Esca realised they were both _girls_. Tony and Augie? Who the hell was who?

For the first time since they entered the house, Aquila actually looked at him. Esca's expression must have been clear, because Marcus shrugged and said. “Antonia is six and Augustine is four.”

“Ah,” Esca said with a vague nod. “Tony and Augie. Got it.” He looked at Marina. “They're cute.”

They were, too. Tony had wild waves of dark hair, and the same eyes as Marina, while Augie was fairer with dark blonde hair in curls, large green eyes, and dimples in her apple cheeks. Esca really had no experience of kids, but these ones didn't look so bad.

Marina laughed, clear and loud. “You don't like kids. That's cool. I couldn't stand kids until I had my own. Now I just tolerate these two because they're my progeny, you know?”

“Marcus Marcus Marcus,” Tony said, jumping around him like a jackrabbit. “How long you staying? How long you staying? Do you want to see my room? I made a painting at school. It's a dog princess. There's a crown on the dog. She's a dog princess.”

“Okaaay, monsters,” Marina said, sweeping in to lift Augie from Marcus' arms. “It's bath time for you two. You can bug Marcus for bedtime kisses afterwards.” She winked at her brother. “Maybe he'll even read you guys a story.”

“ _I LOVE STORIES_ ,” was all Augie screamed at the top of her little lungs. Esca made a mental note to check that his eardrum hadn't shattered.

“Marcus, show Esca around, will you?” Marina said over her shoulder as she led the children away. “The old ball and chain is gonna be home late tonight, so don't worry about him. I'll fill him in, if necessary.”

“Thanks, Rina. Thanks a lot.”

“ _Meh_. Just means you owe me babysitting duties. Not that you don't already do that every day.”

Had it been anyone but Marina who had said that, Esca would have retaliated with something snarky. But Marina owned a bat, and Esca hadn't missed the way her arms had flexed with the strength of someone who clearly did some kind of weight lifting when she wasn't busy being supermom. So, Esca kept his gob shut.

Aquila spared Esca a glance, and he looked to have returned to his previous mindset of a bodyguard. “I'll give you the tour.”

Esca shrugged. “Off you go, then.”

If assassins didn't kill Esca, the sheer tension between them most certainly would.

***

After the baths and bedtime stories were over, Marina made sandwiches and the three of them sat on the back porch, watching the fireflies float and dance.

“I hate that I'm here. That you're a part of this, even for a second.” Aquila said quietly. Their voices had no sounds to raise above, but for the cheerful chirp of crickets.

“I can handle myself.” Marina took a swig of beer from her bottle. “You know that. Someone after you then?”

“After me,” Esca said, staring straight ahead. He'd barely touched his food. “Neither of us wanted to intrude on you.”

“Like I said, we'll be gone before morning. I can't risk them tracking us. If they know I'm with Esca – and they most certainly do – then they're going to go where they think _I_ might go.”

All three of them were silent for some time.

“Well, then I better pack you all a shitload of food,” Marina said.

Aquila actually laughed, and Esca couldn't help but smile. He liked Marina. If she could make Aquila laugh so easily, Esca definitely liked her.

And that was when Esca realised he was well and truly fucked.


	10. Chapter 10

Esca couldn't sleep.

Aquila's words still rang in his ears, still left him reeling from the punch of honesty. Months ago, Esca wouldn't have cared. Aquila had been nothing but his increasingly put-upon babysitter. Esca had relished sniping at him over their time together, and had certainly enjoyed imagining what that body looked like out of the suit – but, beyond that, he'd had little interest in Aquila, as a person.

Now... well, hell. Now, _everything_ was different. Aquila had said he wasn't interested, and that hurt miles more than Esca would have ever expected.

But there had been the kiss. And the inarguable looks, and awkward pauses, and – and what? Sexual attraction wasn't everything.

In the darkness, Esca groaned loudly and smacked his palm to his forehead. Since when had he _ever_ considered sex to be anything more than a lark?

Since Marcus Aquila.

A lot had changed in a literal handful of days. Looking back, Esca wasn't even sure how his feelings had reached this point. They just _were_. Maybe they'd been growing longer than he'd imagined.

Well, he couldn't fucking sleep like this.

Rolling from the bed, Esca tugged on his jeans sans pants, and left his chest bare before he wandered into the hallway. He padded quietly down the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. The hardwood floor was blessedly cool on his bare feet, but as much as Esca was basking in the air conditioning, he wanted _fresh_ air.

He opened the massive fridge, grabbed himself an orange soda, and headed out the back door and into the dark.

Esca's sudden yelp of surprise was not even vaguely masculine as he realised he wasn't alone on the porch. “Jesus fucking Mary and Joseph, Aquila! What the hell are you doing out here?”

Aquila looked up calmly from where he was slouched on a lawn chair on the patio. “Same as you, I'd guess.”

“Right,” Esca said shortly, his earlier scolding resonating in his head all over again. “Well. I'll find some place else to lurk.”

“Sit.”

“I'd rather -”

“ _Sit_.”

“M'not a dog,” Esca said under his breath as he placed his soda on a side table. Instead of sitting, he reached out and tugged on Aquila's wrist. “Come out with me.”

“Out _where_ , Esca? To quote you, this is nature. There's nowhere to go.”

It was too dark to see properly, but Esca rolled his eyes anyway and tugged Aquila harder. “Just come on. I saw something when we arrived.”

“One day very soon I'm not going to cater to your every whim.” But Aquila heaved a sigh and stood to his full height, his white wife-beater stretching across his chest.

Esca swallowed hard and ignored the warning bells going off in his head, in his heart. Instead, he held Aquila's wrist tighter. “This is a good whim – promise. Come on.”

He led them out on to the lush grass, half smiling at the tickle around his toes as he led them not far from the house.

“There, see?” Esca rushed forward and sat down.

The moon was half full, just enough to make out Aquila's brief half-smile. “The _swings_? Really? Are you not the one who just hours ago flipped out over being called a kid?”

Esca narrowed his eyes. “Just _sit_ down beside me, you knobhead. I'm trying to be nice here. Being a kid is acceptable under certain circumstances. Swings are always allowed.”

“That come from _The Great Book of Esca_?”

“Aye, smartass, it does. Come here.” Esca skipped a beat and let out a pained, “Please.”

Aquila shook his head, but made his way forward. “The things I do for you.”

“Write up a bill for me.”

“There are some things I don't think you'll ever be able to pay back.” Marcus looked down as he sat. “I'm too tall for these seats.” He glanced at Esca with faintly curved lips. “Suits you, though.”

“I... choose not to take offence to that,” Esca said, tilting his chin haughtily.

“There's a first.”

Esca snorted a laugh. “You're goading me, aren't you?”

“Don't you deserve it?”

Esca's smile vanished, his lips firming up. He stared straight ahead and nodded, humming a soft sound of agreement. “Hey, Marcus?”

“Whenever you say that, it fills me with terror. Just F-Y-I. Nothing simple ever comes after that.”

“I just wanted to apologise.”

There was a pause, then, “For?”

“The lot of it. The situation you're in. And the – me being – _uh_ –”

“Unbearably entitled, obnoxious, and thoughtless?”

Esca gritted his teeth. “Aye, those things.”

“And?”

“ _And_?” Esca huffed a breath. “What and?”

Silence.

“Is there something else you think I should be apologising for, because while I'm at it I might as well do a clean sweep.”

“ _Uh_ – j-just -” Marcus was stuttering. Esca had never heard Marcus stutter. “If there were other _things_. You know, that you might have regretted.”

Esca shot Marcus a sharp look, only to find him staring down at his feet, wiggling his toes in the grass. Despite his hulking form, he looked almost sheepish.

“You said you weren't interested.”

Marcus jerked his head up and looked to Esca, met his eyes in the darkness. “I said I wasn't interested in being your distraction.”

And then Esca understood. His heart chimed a bright little _ping_ in his chest.

“Marcus...” Esca said softly as he slid off the seat and made his way to stand before him. Marcus looked up as Esca gripped the swing chains in each hand and leaned forward, their noses close, and the height difference pleasantly exchanged.

Esca's lashes lowered as he peered at Marcus' slightly parted lips. “You _are_ my biggest distraction. And I mean that in the very -” Esca placed a soft kiss at the corner of Marcus' mouth and heard the sharp inhale, “best -” Esca kissed the other corner, “way.”

“Dammit, Esca,” Marcus said with no heat at all, as he pulled Esca forward by the hips. Esca stood between Marcus' legs, felt the heat of Marcus' thighs through the thin boardshorts radiate against his jeans. Marcus' expression was fierce, his eyes searching Esca's. “I can't keep up with you. I know I once said I'd never chase you, but I feel like that's _all_ I do. And for what? Half the time I want to punch that mouth and the rest of the time -”

“ _My_ , aren't we Prince Charming,” Esca said dryly, but he couldn't help the vibration of his shoulders as he swallowed a laugh. Their mouths still hovered a breath away from each other, and Esca could feel a sweet, bubbly buzz working it's way through his limbs.

Marcus gave him that patented Look of his, but the affects were lessened by the fact that his thumbs were working slow circles along the bare skin of Esca's lower back. “Can't blame me.”

“Mmm,” Esca murmured with distraction as he leaned in, brushing his nose against Marcus'. When Marcus lunged forward to capture Esca's lips, he quickly said, “Oh, one more thing. You said you didn't fancy blokes. When I asked you. Liar.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows. When he spoke, his voice was low and genuine, and went right to Esca's stomach. “I wasn't lying.”

“You – sorry. My computers are obviously malfunctioning, because I'm about two seconds from crawling onto your lap and you don't seem particularly against the idea.”

A soft laugh brushed against Esca's lips. “I've never been with a guy before. Never been interested. Ever.”

Esca blinked hard and gripped the swing chains tightly. He felt lightheaded. “Yeah, no, I'm drawing a blank here.”

“I just like _you_ , Esca.” Marcus had his fingers linked in Esca's belt loops, and he tugged Esca hard to make the point. “Ever since -”

“There's a _since_?”

“Probably since you first glared at me. I don't know.” Marcus chuckled and reached up to brush a hand through Esca's hair. It felt like magic. “Guess I really am martyr sometimes.”

_I'm going to fucking faint. Esca MacCunoval is going to faint because of this giant fucking twat of a man who went over to the Gay Side just because he actually_ liked _this mad wreck of a human being._

Esca searched Marcus' face for any sign of a joke, or pity, or something that would explain all of this. It wasn't like Esca didn't find himself good looking – he was confident in his body and mind. But that was sex, that was flirting. _This_? Marcus was this freakishly genuine guy. Noble and all that bullshit. And Esca was practically opposite the spectrum.

“Marcus, I -”

“Esca, _move_!”

Before Esca could register the command, Marcus was on his feet, shoving Esca aside, and reaching out to grasp the wrist of a black-masked assailant. Esca had no time to watch the fight, though – someone wrapped a muscled arm around Esca's neck and pulled him against a rock hard chest.

Esca wheezed for air, using all of his strength to throw his body weight forward. He dug his nails into the arm that choked him, giving his windpipe some relief while he tucked his foot behind the back of the assailant's knee, tripped him up – and, promptly tossed the bastard right over his shoulder.

Slamming his heel down onto the fallen attacker's throat, Esca was already looking to Marcus. In the same moment, Marcus' opponent was gripped by the back of the skull as Marcus slammed the man's forehead into the metal bars of the swingset.

With both men either dead or near it at their feet, Marcus and Esca stared at each other over the carnage.

Marcus was the first to speak over shallow breaths. “We need to move.”

That's when Marcus was shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hurt me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is admittedly short, but that's because the next chapter will be quite long. Soooo, please bear with me! Juicy bits are coming.

The muffled pop of a silenced gun sounded to Esca's right, and before he could cry out, he watched Marcus drop like a stone.

“Marcus? Marcus? _Marcus_!” Esca scrambled over, collapsed to his knees, hands feeling Marcus' body in the dark for blood. His palms came up slippery and black, but _fuck_ , he couldn't see properly in this moonlight, couldn't find an entry or exit wound.

“I am told you have information,” came a voice from behind Esca.. The man sounded Slavic or Russian or something.

Esca clenched his teeth and stood, his blood boiling as he faced the masked man, who had a gun pointed at Esca's chest. “Well _your_ information is misinformation. I don't know anything.”

“That is not what your father says.”

Esca felt the world tilt beneath his feet, but refused to show it. He wanted to cling to Marcus, find out if he was okay – and he refused to show that, too.

“Well, in case you hadn't noticed, my father has a wee bit of a reputation for being untrustworthy.”

“One should trust the words of a man in pain.”

“Then trust me when I say you are _dead_.”

The man chuckled and stepped forward, gun at the ready. “If you think -”

Another shot rang out, this time from the house. Esca flinched as he watched the assassin's chest bloom a blood rose before he crumpled into a lifeless heap.

Esca sneered. “Told ya.”

“ _Esca_?” Marina was running across the lawn in nothing but her underwear and an oversized t-shirt. She had a gun in one hand and her mobile in the other. When she saw Marcus lying in the grass, she fell before him and checked his pulse. “His breathing is stable, but we need to get him inside.”

Esca didn't need to be told twice. He was at Marina's side in seconds. As they both hefted one of Marcus' arms over their shoulders – which was actually an awful idea, considering the full head of height difference between them – Esca said between panting breaths, “What about those guys? There's three of them.”

“Has Marcus told you what I used to do for a living?”

“Not had the time between getting shot and all, honestly.”

“FBI, fieldwork. I'm retired to desk jockey now, but I can handle myself, Esca. I can handle _this_.” They stumbled through the back door and dragged Marcus to the living room, stretching him out on the couch.

Finally in the light, Esca could allow himself a shaking breath of relief when he saw that Marcus' wound was not in his chest or shoulder, but low on his hip.

Marina was frowning, but didn't look shaken or pale. “Help me get his shirt off. _Gently_.”

Marcus grunted, his lashes fluttering and his brow marring with discomfort as they stripped him from the waist down. Esca placed a palm on Marcus' forehead and leaned in to murmur in his ear, “S'alright, you big idiot. We're fine and you're gonna be fine.”

Marina said, “Looks like a surface wound. Bullet just grazed him. Hold his shirt to the wound to staunch the bleeding while I get the first aid kit.”

Esca did as he was told and muttered under his breath, “See, it's nothing. Just a flesh wound, as they say. You'll be fine.” Esca's voice cracked. “You'll be fine.”

When Marina returned, she went about cleaning and bandaging the gunshot. As she worked, Esca could help but ask, “What are we going to do about the, uh, y'know, dead blokes in the back garden?”

Marina shrugged. “I've made a lot of enemies in my profession. I'll call the police, tell them I caught them lurking, we fought, I won. When they inevitably ask about your whereabouts – because I don't know if you know this, but you're on the news, too – I'll tell them I haven't seen or heard from you two.”

“You're going to tell them you won against three men?”

Marina shot him a glance. “The coppers only need to glance at my work record to know of what I'm capable.”

Esca blew out a quivering breath. “Marcus was right. You're terrifying.”

“Thank you. And, speaking of, if you ever hurt my little brother, they'll never find your body.”

“The both of you are just _so_ bloody charming tonight.”

“There,” Marina said quietly as she inspected her work. The bandage was stark white, glaring at Esca like an accusation that he couldn't have done more.

Esca was so concerned with glowering at the injury that he startled when he heard a sniffle from Marina. He whipped his head up to see a steady flow of tears stream down her face. She stroked the side of Marcus' face. Her fingertips were still stained with blood.

She seemed as ease with her tears as she was with bandaging a wound. When she met Esca's eyes, there was no embarrassment in her gaze.

“I hate to say this, but you two should probably go.”

Esca rubbed his own eyes hard, surprised to find the back of his hand come up damp. He nodded, noting how pale Marcus' lips were, how still his face was. “How the hell do we move him?”

Marina laughed wetly. “We'll make it work.”

***

They made it work. Marina actually slapped Marcus until he came to long enough for the three of them to stumble through the forest and back to the car. Esca had packed their things, along with an extra backpack of food, courtesy of Marina.

Marcus had mumbled about how he could walk just fine, all the while leaning heavily into Esca, nearly crushing him into the forest floor. If Esca had ever hated his height more than on this night, he couldn't recall.

Marina had laid Marcus down in the back seat and shut the door quietly, turning to check out Esca.

“What?” Esca snapped, exhausted and not looking forward to driving, since he had no idea where the fuck they were going. He didn't even know where the hell he was.

Marina raised an eyebrow and reached out, shoving a bottle of pills in Esca's hand. “Pain killers. Good ones. You got a phone?”

“I – uh.” Esca nodded, feeling fried as he dug the mobile from his back pocket and handed to her.

She took it and started fucking about with the touch screen. “I'm going into your GPS and adding in a few destinations. Go to Broken Oar and tell them Rina said you need a room. It's a biker bar on the river -”

Esca scoffed. “What, are you a biker, too?”

Marina looked up, apparently unamused. “Do I look like I couldn't be?”

Esca swallowed. “Uh -”

“Anyway, I'm close with the owner. And while he doesn't take in just anyone, he does have a couple of rooms above the place, just in case. Stay the night. If you're not safe there, you won't be safe anywhere.”

“Gee, thanks.” Esca took the phone as it was offered and pocketed it. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs and looked up at Marina. “So, thank you. For everything. We're leaving you with one hell of a shitstorm to deal with.”

Before Esca could see it coming, he was enveloped in a warm, firm hug. Marina's voice was almost motherly in his ear. “Just take care of my brother.”

Esca hesitated before he squeezed her in reply.

Soon after, Esca was looking in the rearview mirror as he drove away, leaving Marina standing at the forest's edge, still in her underwear.

“Oh, if I was straight,” Esca said with a slaphappy laugh. He sighed heftily. “Well, darling, let's go to the Broken Oar. Wherever the hell that is.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG AND THAT THIS IS SO SHORT. BUT WE'RE BACK INTO THIS, PROMISE. THINGS ARE HEATING UP.

“Hey. _Marcus_ ,” Esca whispered. He didn't know why he was whispering, except that it was like four in the morning and the hour demanded it. He'd pulled in to the car park of the dive bar and popped in, glad that his own penchant for black and grey assured that he didn't stand out _too_ much.

Mentioning Marina's name had been like turning on a light in the room. The bartender brightened – as much as he could, looking like a seriously scary motherfucker – and said he had room that they could used indefinitely.

“What's the catch?” Esca had said, eyes narrowed as he openly surveyed the guy behind the counter. He had a thick, black mohawk and way more tattoos than Esca. Actually, had Esca not recently discovered that he had a hard-on for the all-American footballer type, he _so_ would have tried to tap this ass. It was kind of unnerving to realise that Esca wasn't even remotely interested in pursuing that, anymore.

“Easy,” the bartender had said. “Don't be a dick and I won't cut _off_ your dick.”

Esca refused to wince at that. “Fine. Cheers.” He turned away, then whirled back. “Oh. Your name?”

“Liathan.”

It sounded like a mad, made-up name to Esca, but he didnt comment. Instead, he dug out his wallet from his back pocket and slapped a large bill on the sticky counter. “Hard liquor. However much this'll get me.”

Liathan had raised an eyebrow at the money, but shrugged and took it. Moments later, Esca was staring at a tall bottle of Famous Grouse. He'd snorted a laugh and hooked his fingers around the neck. “Ah, _home_.”

“Thought it was apt,” Liathan had said with a shrug. “Anything else?”

“Just a key.”

Esca had unloaded the car briskly, his eyes sharp for any movement in the shadows. The room was surprisingly welcoming, for something hanging over a biker bar. The single window looked out over the black ribbon river, and the sheets were clean and white.

The last matter to take care of was Marcus.

Which was why Esca was leaning in the back door of the car, staring down at Marcus' reposed face. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell if he was still too pale or not.

“ _Mar_ cus,” Esca sing-songed, like his mother would when trying to wake him. When the big oaf didn't even stir, Esca heaved a sigh and snapped, “Atten- _tion_ , soldier!”

Marcus' eyes popped open and he shot up in in the seat, promptly smacking his head on the roof and falling right back down. He hissed and clenched his injured side with one hand.

“Oh, _shite_ , oh motherfucking _fuck_ ,” Esca said, his hands fluttering over Marcus, but falling nowhere, because he was sure he'd fuck that up, too. “I didn't think it would actually work!”

Marcus blearily blinked up at Esca. “You're a dick.”

“I'm bloody amazing. Come on, Sleeping Beauty, it's time for bed.”

“It's bed in here. I was bedded. Sleeping. You woke me up and I feel like I've been hit by a truck.”

“Well, you were shot, but same difference. Come on, Hulk,” Eren said, giving Marcus a light little slap on the cheek. “You've been through worse, I'm sure. Let's get you into a real bed.”

The mention of bed must have roused Marcus, because he huffed out a pained breath and sat up. Gingerly, and with one hand holding Esca's, he slipped from the car. Esca quietly shut the door behind them and led them to the outdoor flight of rickety stairs that brought them to the second floor.

As much as Esca disliked the thought of Marcus in pain due to his own faults, it was nice to be the one that Marcus – or _anyone_ – leaned on. People had never counted on Esca for anything. Only in these past days had it begun to dawn on Esca how sheltered and selfish his existence had been – and how content he'd been to abuse the relationships around him so that others would care for him, but he wouldn't have to personally put himself out.

“Alright, here we go,” Esca said as he carefully released Marcus so that he could sit at the edge of the bed.

Marcus looked around with sleep-bruised eyes. “Where are we?”

“Some biker bar your sister has connections with for reasons that I never want to know,” Esca said, busying himself with tentatively gripping the hem of Marcus' shirt and pulling up.

Marcus' face was contorted in discomfort, but he remained silent and stiffly moved his arms so that Esca could strip him. “I don't know where she finds these people.”

“Well,” Esca said, mulling it over as he crouched and slipped off Marcus' flip-flops, leaving him in his shorts. “At least they like her. She's got a knack.”

“That's an understatement,” Marcus murmured, his voice already starting to slur.

“Wait here,” Esca said, turned and heading to his duffel, which sat on a scarred set of drawers.

“As if I'd move.”

“Whatever. I know how you are.” Esca rummaged through his things and came up with the pain killers. He knocked one into his palm and nicked the bottle of Grouse as he returned to Marcus. They met eyes and Esca smirked. “Stubborn.”

“Shut up. Says you. What's that?”

Esca dropped the tablet in Marcus' palm and unscrewed the top of the booze, shoving that in his other hand. “Down the hatch.”

“I don't want to _kill_ myself, Esca.”

“Fucking drama queen. Just take it. I swear to you, I've done worse.”

“And look how you turned out.”

Esca bit his tongue, because he'd won anyway. Marcus downed the pill with a glug of whiskey and hissed as it went down.

“Good boy,” Esca purred, nipping the bottle from Marcus' hold and turning to set it aside. “You can sleep now.”

“ _Hey_.” Marcus had lurched forward and gripped Esca's wrist in a strong hold. The action must've pained him, but he didn't make a peep. Instead, his expression was solemn in the shadows, his jaw strong and set. “Come here,” he said softly, sending shivers skating down Esca's spine.

“Um, w-”

Marcus yanked him in, clearly too tired for Esca's bullshit. Even in the cover of night, Esca could feel the heat of Marcus' stare as he took Esca's other wrist and tugged him in. It wasn't until Esca was seated on Marcus' lap, his legs straddling Marcus' thighs, that Marcus released Esca's wrists and brought his palms to Esca's face.

“Thanks,” he said, voice hushed and warm. Their noses brushed.

Esca's face went up in flame, and he was forever grateful for the disguise of darkness allowing him to save his pride. Unfortunately, the light hitch of his breath betrayed him, as did the way his hips faintly scooted up Marcus' lap.

“What, for getting you shot? All in a day's work.”

“For helping me.” Marcus' lips whispered over Esca's, a dry, placid barely-kiss. It set Esca's skin alight, nonetheless. His heard shuddered against his ribcage.

“Aye, because I was going to leave you fuckin' _bleeding out_ on -”

Marcus captured Esca's mouth, firm and tender, his tongue patiently coaxing Esca's lips apart until Esca was melting into the circle of Marcus' strong arms and moaning into the deepening kiss. Large, capable hands drifted down the small of Esca's back, gripping the curve of his arse to push him closer and hold him fast. Marcus tasted like the heady tang of whisky and his own deep, earthy flavour – and Esca was struck dumb with the need to sample every angle and damp curve of Marcus' mouth.

Flinging his arms around Marcus' mountainous shoulders, Esca groaned something guttural and low as he dove into the kiss with a fire that he couldn't bank. Marcus met him at every turn, his tongue hot and wet and avid against Esca's, their ragged breathing humid between them, flushing Esca's cheeks and burning a wake down his body to pulse furiously between Esca's thighs. Gasping for breath, Esca tilted his chin back, blindly gaping at the ceiling as he sucked in a desperate huff of cool air.

Marcus wasted no time with the invitation of Esca's bared throat. He reigned kisses down the length of it, licking a line over Esca's throbbing heartbeat, only pausing to rip the collar of Esca's shirt down and suck a bruise to life above his sweat-damp collarbone. The sound of Esca's t-shirt _ripping_ had him snapping his attention back, both he and Marcus breathing harshly as they stared each other down – Marcus with bare, blatant desire, and Esca with dumb-struck lust.

Their mouths collided once more, only breaking as Marcus clumsily pulled Esca's shirt over his head. Esca drowned in their kiss as he reached between their rutting hips, hurriedly whipping Marcus' rock-hard cock out of the waistband of his shorts.

An ounce of thought did not exist for going slow on their first time, or waiting to appreciate their bodies and all that utter fucking nonsense. Esca wanted to see Marcus cum, and that was _all_ he cared about.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Esca,” Marcus said with a hoarse gasp, like the words had been physically ripped from his throat. His fingertips dug into Esca's thighs, then scattered down towards Esca's zip, “Let me -”

Esca slapped Marcus' hands away and pumped Marcus' thick length of dick – and oh god, it bloody _huge_ , that thing could choke and kill a man – with slow, purposeful strokes, the pad of Esca's thumb circling the slick, pulsing head with every stroke. Marcus whined, his hands coming up to grip Esca's short crop of hair and urging their foreheads together.

“ _What_ -” Marcus's chest heaved, his swollen lips parted as he looked down at Esca's quickening fist. “How – oh, _God_.”

“Not God, darlin' – _Esca_.” A self-satisfied smile played at Esca's mouth as he watched Marcus come undone, felt it in the way Marcus' fingertips dug into the nape of his neck. Marcus' thighs trembled beneath Esca's lap, as if Esca were a force of nature and Marcus was left to weather the storm.

Esca's fist twisted around Marcus' leaking cock, his wrist flicking fast and sure. He huffed a soft laugh when Marcus appeared to officially lose the will – his sweaty forehead dropped down on Esca's shoulder, his shoulders hunching, his nails digging into Esca's still jean-clad thighs. He sounded like he was running a marathon, and Esca felt himself fill with pride that he was the one to make it happen.

“Marcus,” Esca murmured in Marcus' ear, barely recognising the husky, fucked-out voice as his own. His words shook, as his hand went quick and erratic along Marcus dick. “Marcus, cum for me, darlin'.”

On command, Marcus sucked in a loud, sharp breath, choking on it as his cock pulsed hard and fast in Esca's hand, spilling across Esca's stomach and dripping over his fingers. Esca bit down on his lip as his warm, sticky hand pumped those last few strokes out. Marcus shuddered against Esca's body and slumped forward with his full weight – which, aye, was _not_ comfortable because it was the equivalent of having a bookcase toppled onto him.

Taking a few long, calming breaths, Esca willed away his painful hard-on – that would have to wait. Tonight had been about Marcus. Okay, and a little bit about Esca's deviant power-bottom tendencies. But, _anyway_.

“Right, Marcus. As much as I enjoyed this, you're going to have to not use me as a leaning post... Marcus?”

Marcus grunted, not moving. “Esca?”

“ _Hmm_?” Esca scrunched his face up in distaste as he held his messed hand out and grabbed his discarded t-shirt to wipe himself off.

“That was... _hm_.”

“Glowing reviews. Brilliant.” But Esca was smiling – it was just handy that Marcus couldn't see it. “How's the side?” he brushed his fingertips over the stark patch of white.

“I can't feel shit.”

Esca blinked owlishly into the night, then barked a laugh. “Aye, that'll be the drugs kicking in, then.”

“Or your magic hands.”

“Or not,” Esca said with a chuckle that he muffled against Marcus' shoulder. “Marcus? I'm gonna push you back onto the bed. As carefully as I can.”

But the gentleness was mildly fucked over when Marcus willingly flopped back like a ragdoll, his arms spread out like a starfish. He blinked at the dark ceiling once, then shut his eyes. “Sleep,” was all he said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

And Esca had a feeling that was the end of that.

Rolling his eyes, Esca tucked Marcus' junk away and made a half-assed effort to drag him a little further up the bed. Marcus' feet were still sticking off the end, but Esca wasn't a fucking miracle worker.

Stripping down to his pants, Esca palmed his dick, reminding his body that he'd make sure this wasn't the last encounter they'd have with Marcus and is titan cock. Oh, _hell_ no, it wasn't.

Flopping into bed beside the already snoring giant beside him, Esca closed his eyes and dropped like a stone.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STILL ALIVE. STILL WRITING. PROMISE.

The sound of the television filtered through Esca's sleep. The volume was a low murmur, but it was enough to rouse and annoy him. Esca had never been good at waking.

With a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut further and turned his face until it was fully buried in the pillow. Unfortunately, that made it bloody difficult to breathe, so he and sleep were at a bit of an impasse.

Face scrunched up to battle the sun that streamed in over the bed, Esca propped one elbow on the mattress and rested his cheek on his hand. He squinted open only one eye, partially unsurprised to see the bare, wide expanse of Marcus' back at the foot of the bed as he watched the local news.

“The fuck time s'it?” Esca said, his voice raspy.

Marcus turned to look at Esca – who didn't miss the little wince of pain – and raised his eyebrows. “You look like shit.”

“Says the bloke s'been shot,” Esca said, dropping his hand and letting his head fall back onto the bed. He allowed his eyes to close once more as he arched his back in a long, languid stretch, a low _mmmm_ humming deep in his throat as he his body sluggishly came to life.

“You sound a million more times Scottish in the morning, you know that?”

“Don't notice as it's m'own accent n'all. Wanker.” Esca mumbled into the pillow. So warm, so cosy. More sleep would be brilliant.

“To answer your previous question,” Marcus said, as if he hadn't heard, “It's past noon.”

“ _Bwah_?” Esca sat up in bed, refraining from hissing as he opened both eyes to the light. “Fuckin' hell.”

“Yup. Not that we have anywhere to be, I guess.”

Esca made a noise of agreement as he blinked around the room. He hadn't been able to see it so clearly last night, and he'd been too exhausted, and at the same time wired, to notice. It was a surprisingly welcoming room, for a place above a biker bar.

“Did you drug yourself yet?” Esca asked, surveying the strong curves of musculature carved along Marcus' back. Who the hell was allowed to be such a fucking work of art?

“I shouldn't take them,” Marcus said, still fixated on the telly. Probably looking for news of his sister's predicament. “I can't stay sharp, otherwise.”

“But you'll be in shitloads of _pain_ , otherwise,” Esca said, his face scrunching in disgust. People didn't just say _no_ to drugs. Oh wait, no, there was something about that somewhere...

“I'd rather that then fuck up like I did last night,” Marcus said, his voice oddly thick.

Esca frowned and cocked his head. “Marcus. It wasn't -” Well, it was partially his fault. For taking them there. But it wasn't like either of them thought they'd be followed to the boonies and tracked down so damn quickly.   
  
“Listen,” Esca said, crawling towards the foot of the bed.

He hesitated in touching Marcus, unsure of where they really stood. Esca had never been in a relationship that involved genuine affection or, well, anything more than  sex. And Marcus was... Well, Marcus was different from anything. And as much as Esca liked to come off as fearless, this was like running headlong into the dark. It was bloody unnerving.

“Uh.” Esca dropped his chin on one of Marcus' shoulders and slung an arm over the other. “Right, so things got more than a little buggered yesterday. But we're here now. How could we be found out? We're in the middle of nowhere at this point. The next move is ours, aye? We've got time. Although we should probably ditch the car or – or trade it in, I dunno how that shite works here.”

Marcus remained stubbornly silent, and even though Esca wasn't particularly talented at reading people, he could sense a sulk when he saw one. He'd done enough of that in his time.

“ _Mar_ cus,” Esca singsonged in the same way he did last night, his lips brushing Marcus' ear. If there was one thing Esca _could_ do with any skill, it was _this_.

“Just relax,” Esca murmured, and dipped his head to kiss the side of Marcus' throat. He heard the hitch of breath, felt the way Marcus' entire body tensed. Esca's mouth curved against Marcus' shoulder. He nipped at the freckled skin there, licked the spot better, then bit a little harder, pleased with the little moan it induced. Esca moved to Marcus' nape, his lips against Marcus' hairline as he wrapped his arms loosely around Marcus' neck, Esca's fingertips lightly brushing Marcus' chest. “You've got a nearly naked – and rather fuckable, if I say so myself – lad in your bed, and you're not gonna give yourself even a _moment's_ pleasure?”

“ _Jesus_ , Esca.” Marcus fingers gripped one of Esca's wrists, firmly but not painfully so. Esca could feel him take a deep, cleansing breath. Marcus' voice was deep and strained. “You have – you have _no_ fucking idea how much I -”

Esca had scooted closer, his chest pressed flush with Marcus' back. “ _Hmm_?”

“I can't think straight,” Marcus said breathlessly, and then he was standing in one motion, leaving Esca behind as he paced the room. He was still dressed in only his tight boxers, and while his desire for Esca was physically evident, his face was dark with frustration. “This isn't the time,” was all Marcus said.

Esca flung his legs over the side of the bed and reclined on his hands, his eyes flicking back and forth as he watched Marcus' long, muscular legs eat up one end of the room and then the other. He'd never seen him this agitated. Maybe the pain was driving Marcus mad or something, Esca thought idly.

“What if we just give them what they want?” Esca said, ending on an extended yawn.

Marcus stopped dead, his gaze drilling into Esca, his mouth a sober line. “Like hell.”

Ah, _there_ was a recognisable Marcus.

“Hear me out,” Esca said. He was unsure why he was being so reasonable about this. Maybe it was seeing Marcus so upset that stabbed at him a little, maybe he was tired of running, but it was probably both. “I mean, I really do know nothing. These blokes were saying shite like, I dunno, I have information or something. But I know zilch. Surely whoever's behind this would understand that after some point?”

_And they have my dad_ , Esca added silently. Marcus had been shot and down for the count when that little nugget of information had been given up, and Esca wasn't sure about the right time to tell him. Or to tell him _at all_.

“After _what_ point, Esca? After they hurt you? Pulled your fingernails out?”

Esca shot an acidic look across the room. “In the end, it's _my_ choice, y'know.”

“And you're _choosing_ to get yourself _killed_?” Marcus' jaw was clenched, and it was almost comical how he mimed choking Esca right in his face. “I can do that for you _right now_ , if you want.”

“Don't be so fucking dramatic, mate,” Esca said, waving him away.

Marcus stared at him for a long, tense moment, before he cursed under his breath and turned on his heel. He began to rummage through his bag for a change of clothes, tugging shorts on in sharp, agitated motions. He was in the process of roughly pulling his shirt over his torso, when he shifted, and his bandage became visible from across the room. 

Fresh, bright blood had bloomed in the centre of the gauze.

“Oh, _fuck_ you,” Esca yelled as he jumped to his feet and marched over. “Sit the _fuck_ down, take your _fucking_ tablets, and let me re-dress this piece of shit wound that _you_ reopened because you're a stubborn, rotting dickhole.”

The only reason Marcus probably let Esca shove him back to the bed was because he was busy making an incredulous face at him. “That's _disgusting_ , Esca. How the hell do they teach you to swear across the pond?”

“Piss me off some more and you'll find out,” Esca said between his teeth.

He _hated_ to see Marcus like this – hated it because Esca knew it was his own fault that this was all happening. If only he knew what he was _supposed_ to apparently know.

On his way to the duffel where Marina had packed more bandages, Esca spotted the bottle of Grouse sitting on the bureau. He picked it up by the handle, roughly swivelled off the top and took a short shot. It burned going down, but damn if he didn't need it right about now.

Slamming the bottle back on the wood with a resounding crack, he continued on and retrieved the shite he needed for Marcus' injury. When he turned back, he saw Marcus' studying him with some strange expression on his face.

“What?” Esca snapped as he came over.

“You never cease to amaze me, is all.”

Marcus said it without a hint of humour in his voice, and the fact that he didn't seem to be joking had Esca scowling as he felt his cheeks burn. “Lay down, you fucking oaf.”

Doing as ordered, Marcus leaned back onto the mattress and folded his arms behind his head. He watched Esca quietly, making no sound when Esca removed the soiled bandage and began to clean the wound with a cotton ball and harshly-smelling solution that just _had_ to burn.

“Which Esca is the real Esca, I wonder?” Marcus said softly.

Esca's hand paused at Marcus' grazed side. His frowned deepened while he refused to look up. “Don't talk bollocks.”

“In the span of minutes you go from spoiled kid to blasé teen to responsible adult. How does that work?”

“Are you saying I'm a schitzo?” Esca said sourly as he gently placed the gauze pad over the wound and began to tape it down.

“I'm saying you're extremely frustrating and I don't know why I keep trying to chase you.”

Esca finished his work and dutifully slipped the hem of Marcus' shirt back down, where it belonged. With his expression sombre, he finally looked up and met Marcus' gaze.

“Stop chasing me, then. There's no grand prize at the end of this race. I promise.”

With a small flinch, Marcus sat up and shifted to face Esca. His expression was searching, intrusive to a degree that, days ago, would force Esca to crack a joke or run. Today, he did neither.

“That's where I know you're wrong,” Marcus said, his voice hushed as he reached up to cup Esca's jaw with one large hand.

Esca couldn't fight the blush that crept up his chest and neck, but cursed his ability to blush at the drop of a hat all the same. “You're a fucking dolt,” he whispered fiercely, already leaning in.

Marcus' captured Esca's mouth like a man starving, his tongue immediately dipping between Esca's lips with confidence. Trapped under whatever spell Marcus' words had put on him, Esca felt himself surrender, melt against Marcus and open for him completely. The sigh was his own as he wrapped a hand around Marcus' neck and pulled him in, allowing Marcus to plunder his mouth with deep, damp kisses that left Esca reeling.

Never had Esca completely given up in a person's arms. Never had he dropped all defences and simply let himself bask in being kissed, in being cared for. Marcus held Esca's face with his palms like he was something precious, something he refused to release.

When they both came up for breath, panting and pressing their foreheads together, Esca couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up.

With a rather adorable frown, Marcus pulled back a little to study Esca. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing, pet.” Esca smiled. How could he say that, despite the shitstorm going on around them, Esca couldn't recall being happier than in this moment? “Wait here.”

He got up, already missing Marcus' hands on him, but ignoring the desire for the time being. There were more important things. Esca nicked the bottle of painkillers and dropped one in his hand. He put it in his mouth, bit it in half, and tossed one half back in the bottle. Turning, he brought it over to Marcus and held it out in his palm.

“Here. Compromise?”

Marcus' eyes widened, an uncharacteristically playful grin lighting his face. “I'm sorry. I thought I just heard Prince Esca MacCunoval say the word _compromise_. Is that word even in your vocabulary?”

Esca didn't even crack a smile. “I'll jam this down your throat myself if I h-”

“Alright, _alright_ ,” Marcus said, grabbing the pill from Esca's hand. “Christ, you're a nightmare sometimes.”

“Shut up, you love it,” Esca said, pleased when Marcus actually swallowed the damn thing. “Now what?”

Marcus shrugged. “Food?”

“Right,” Esca nodded. “Food. Marina packed stuff. We eat, then we -”

“Plan,” Marcus said, his eyes gone stony and sober again. “Then we plan.”

Esca took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yeah. We plan.”


End file.
